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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The first one I interviewed for a job was an Italian banker who had complimented me on the “roasting” of his colleagues and had suggested that, at any time I had enough of journalism and would like to resume my profession, he would give me an office in his bank, where I could assist his depositors on all legal matters and documents subject to Italian laws, for which there were continuous requests. A young Italian lawyer would be just the thing for his organization. Moreover, it would give him particular pleasure to be of service to a Brother Mason.
When I next called on the brother mason, he made me wait and then told me that it was a busy morning. “Wouldn’t I please come back in a few days?” I apologized for the inopportune visit and asked on what day I should return. On the given date I was there punctually, but something had turned up and the banker, with profound regret, again asked me to “come back in a few days.” The third time, on receiving the same stall, I begged my brother mason to send me a line when he found it convenient to see me. I never heard from him. He was plainly a “hot-air merchant,” and my recent belief in Masonry Brotherhood was knocked out, forever.
It was noontime. I had a lonely nickel in my pocket. Would I take the trolley and go home for lunch or should I have a free lunch and walk home? It was a beautiful sunny day and, being quite hungry, I took the second choice.
Saloons offering free lunch had signs in the windows to that effect. I passed one, two, three, four saloons along the main thoroughfare and none of them had the sign. I turned into a side street, the same disappointment. I kept walking and finally came to a shabby place with the cherished invitation.
I came out fully restored and began my hike of nearly four miles back home. I was humming and whistling all the way. There was a friendly voice inside which buoyed me up. It was saying: “You are in a…
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…big city. There will be something for you before long this is only another trial.”
The next morning I pawned my mandolin for five dollars. The instrument was worth ten times as much, but that five dollar bill was twenty times as valuable. I would have enough for carfares and free lunches for a long time. Still, time could not be wasted. I must get around to see people. I must take up English again. I have been here nearly two months, without hardly speaking a word of English. Of what use is my education, if I cannot express myself freely? This is a country of Americans and I must learn their ways, if I want to get ahead. The language should be my main object until I fully conquer it.
That same afternoon I went to a Settlement House in the neighborhood. One of the workers, a rather distinguished man, wanted to converse in Italian and was willing to exchange for English conversation. We started right in. I went back in the evening. I made several acquaintances. They were all eager to talk to me and help me. What wonderful people! Within a week, my tongue had limbered and my ears were better attuned. I was not reticent any longer, even if I made mistakes. I was encouraged by being told of my excellent progress, and kept plugging.
A letter came from Joe Paterno advising me that a friend of his had offered him a round trip ticket to Chicago, but that he was quite busy and would like me to use the ticket for a visit to New York. I suspected that Joe knew of my predicament and was trying to pull me out of it, without hurting my pride. I thanks Joe for his kin thought, but told him that I was quite busy myself and that, although things were rather messy, I was confident of improvement and would have to mark time.
Next: Chapter 32
