toward the middle--electric lights they've got now on the Bowery. 'Tis a sight to behold all right."
One dark street led into another. If Seamus hadn't been guiding us, we'd have been hopelessly lost, and probably at the mercy of criminals, too. I noticed several unsavory types eyeing us from the shadows. Sometimes there were saloons on street corners with men coming in and out of them. Then there began to be more lights--open shop fronts with kerosene lanterns hissing away. And then, mercy of mercies--we came to the broadest street of all, and here all was full of life. The stores were all open, and there were bright electric lamps in the streets that made it look almost like day. Cabs and carriages clattered past, and then, with a clang clanging of its bell, a streetcar came toward us, gliding on silvery tracks. We just stood and stared--those of us who had never seen an electric streetcar before, that is. I've no doubt that Seamus was used to it by now.
"How does it go, Daddy--there are no horses," little Seamus gasped.
"Electricity," Big Seamus said grandly. "See, it runs on those tracks, like a small train. New York City is full of marvels, my boy. Full of marvels. Tomorrow, if you're good, I'll show you a big hole in the ground and do you know what they're doing there? There building a railway to run under the city. Imagine that. Oh yes, this is the place to be all right."
I was still staring like a delighted child at the shops full of merchandise, the streetcars, the electric lights, taverns, eating rooms, and even theaters. There was everything you might need or dream about right there on that one street. I decided I was going to like living in a city.
We crossed that wide street, staying close to Seamus as we dodged through the traffic. Then we walked by a brightly lit theater. Flannagan's Irish Delight was the sign in winking lights. On a billboard outside was plastered ""When Irish Eyes Are Smiling!" An all-new
review starring the best and brightest of Ireland's stars--straight from their phenomenal success in Dublin and Belfast: Taffy and Rosie, the Shannon twins will clog dance their way into your hearts; Ireland's own darlin' boy, Billy Brady will tickle your fancy with his wicked recitations, and the pride of old Ireland, Edward Monagan, with the golden voice will bring tears to your eyes."
We passed on. I said a silent prayer of thanks they hadn't also sent Taffy and Rosie to entertain us that afternoon. Now we left the main streets and plunged into another maze of smaller streets, but these weren't dark and threatening. They were dark because there was no electric light, but they were full of life and noise. Everywhere there were men with barrows and handcarts, and these handcarts were piled with every sort of merchandise you could imagine--fruit, vegetables, fish, pots, pans, fabric--why, it was better than the Westport fair that we went to once a year when I was a child.
"Is it some kind of market day here?" I asked.
"No, it's like this every day," Seamus answered. "Most new immigrants can't get a job straightaway, especially if they can't speak English. So they go and get themselves a pushcart and they sell things. They start off small and get bigger."
"What about you? Do you have a job or a cart like this?"
"Well, I'm Irish, aren't I? We're the lucky ones. They know we've got good strong muscles and we know how to vote, too."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that the power that runs this city is Irish, and if they want to count on our votes to stay in power, then they make sure we're employed and happy. That new subway train I told you about--I'm digging that tunnel. They have plans to dig tunnels all over the city, so I reckon that should keep me nicely employed for quite a while--God willing and the roof don't collapse, like the saying goes here."
We worked our way down the narrow cobbled streets between the pushcarts. It was quite dark by now and I just hoped that what I was treading on
One dark street led into another. If Seamus hadn't been guiding us, we'd have been hopelessly lost, and probably at the mercy of criminals, too. I noticed several unsavory types eyeing us from the shadows. Sometimes there were saloons on street corners with men coming in and out of them. Then there began to be more lights--open shop fronts with kerosene lanterns hissing away. And then, mercy of mercies--we came to the broadest street of all, and here all was full of life. The stores were all open, and there were bright electric lamps in the streets that made it look almost like day. Cabs and carriages clattered past, and then, with a clang clanging of its bell, a streetcar came toward us, gliding on silvery tracks. We just stood and stared--those of us who had never seen an electric streetcar before, that is. I've no doubt that Seamus was used to it by now.
"How does it go, Daddy--there are no horses," little Seamus gasped.
"Electricity," Big Seamus said grandly. "See, it runs on those tracks, like a small train. New York City is full of marvels, my boy. Full of marvels. Tomorrow, if you're good, I'll show you a big hole in the ground and do you know what they're doing there? There building a railway to run under the city. Imagine that. Oh yes, this is the place to be all right."
I was still staring like a delighted child at the shops full of merchandise, the streetcars, the electric lights, taverns, eating rooms, and even theaters. There was everything you might need or dream about right there on that one street. I decided I was going to like living in a city.
We crossed that wide street, staying close to Seamus as we dodged through the traffic. Then we walked by a brightly lit theater. Flannagan's Irish Delight was the sign in winking lights. On a billboard outside was plastered ""When Irish Eyes Are Smiling!" An all-new
review starring the best and brightest of Ireland's stars--straight from their phenomenal success in Dublin and Belfast: Taffy and Rosie, the Shannon twins will clog dance their way into your hearts; Ireland's own darlin' boy, Billy Brady will tickle your fancy with his wicked recitations, and the pride of old Ireland, Edward Monagan, with the golden voice will bring tears to your eyes."
We passed on. I said a silent prayer of thanks they hadn't also sent Taffy and Rosie to entertain us that afternoon. Now we left the main streets and plunged into another maze of smaller streets, but these weren't dark and threatening. They were dark because there was no electric light, but they were full of life and noise. Everywhere there were men with barrows and handcarts, and these handcarts were piled with every sort of merchandise you could imagine--fruit, vegetables, fish, pots, pans, fabric--why, it was better than the Westport fair that we went to once a year when I was a child.
"Is it some kind of market day here?" I asked.
"No, it's like this every day," Seamus answered. "Most new immigrants can't get a job straightaway, especially if they can't speak English. So they go and get themselves a pushcart and they sell things. They start off small and get bigger."
"What about you? Do you have a job or a cart like this?"
"Well, I'm Irish, aren't I? We're the lucky ones. They know we've got good strong muscles and we know how to vote, too."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that the power that runs this city is Irish, and if they want to count on our votes to stay in power, then they make sure we're employed and happy. That new subway train I told you about--I'm digging that tunnel. They have plans to dig tunnels all over the city, so I reckon that should keep me nicely employed for quite a while--God willing and the roof don't collapse, like the saying goes here."
We worked our way down the narrow cobbled streets between the pushcarts. It was quite dark by now and I just hoped that what I was treading on
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