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Note:
This is a work of Historical Fiction – the following story’s fictional events
are based upon real occurrences in history.
“Tis hard
for an empty bag to stand upright”
-Benjamin Franklin
January 1931:
Mr. Journal,
The terrible day has come.
Today William, the foreclosure agent from the bank, arrived at the house to finalize some documents. Every piece of furniture in the house is covered in plastic sheets. To think they would be talking everything I owned, from my beloved rocking chair, to the house itself, is quite the overwhelming thought. I can barely believe it as I write to you (Please excuse me if the paper sheet is slightly wrinkled, a few tears managed to escape). Ruth, God bless her soul, is finding it especially difficult to comprehend. One doctor we saw said she had some disease by the name of “depression”.
January 1931:
Mr. Journal,
God has been especially cruel to me.
In the morning, I walked into master bedroom to wake Ruth, but I was too late.
Rest In Peace, my lovely wife.
August 1931:
Mr. Journal,
We have a great deal of catching up to do. It has been quite the while since we last talked, and circumstances have greatly changed.
After Ruth’s departure, I struggled to find meaning in my life. You may not agree with me, but I find the two things most important to modern man are money and family. Both these things have been ruthlessly taken from me. To start my house was taken, along with everything I owned. Then, on a more painful note, came my wife. Poor Ruth.
Why would God ever do such terrible things? It is a question I have struggled with over the past few months, and one that you may help me answer.
August 1931:
Mr. Journal,
I would like to apologize. I forgot to explain many things in the last entry. Talking about Ruth got me very upset….
You should know that I am in New York City now. I reasoned that staying in the suburbs was not only unaffordable, but impractical considering the greater amount of employment opportunities in the city. So in that vein of thought, I hopped on a couple of baggage trains and found myself in the City.
Unfortunately New York City was not the solution. Work is even harder to come by here, and thousands of homeless, jobless people (like me) wander the streets as a result.
Life is terribly empty right now, and I have come to the conclusion that God has abandoned me, just like everything else.
September 1931:
Mr. Journal,
My savior has finally come!
One morning, I noticed a young Negro man in a newsboy cap and overalls staring at me from a distance. For the rest of the day the young Negro continued to follow me. Eventually I mustered the courage to approach him, and ask him why he was following me. You will be most surprised to hear that he was offering me a job, and he was simply following me to observe if I was a worthy candidate.
A job! After months of living homeless, it is a relief to hear his words. It is the chance to rebuild that I have dreamt of many a night. The young man didn’t explain the details of the job to me straight away, but whatever it is you may be assured that I will seize the opportunity.
September 1931:
Mr. Journal,
Today I met up with the Negro man I told you about last time. He introduced himself to me as Booker, and he explained the job. It is not exactly what I had imagined, but it is a job nonetheless...
To put it simply, he has offered me a position as his partner in crime. What do I mean, you might ask? Well read carefully, I will explain in detail. Booker works as an alcohol transporter for some local gang, widely known as the Five Point Gang (it's one of those Mafia type gangs that you may have heard about in the newspapers). Alcohol is still an illegal commodity, and transporting it is a very risky business. This is why he has asked for my assistance. From what he has described, it is a fairly straightforward process: we go to the local gang warehouse (disguised as a convenience store), get a shipment of alcohol, and deliver it to various speakeasy bars across the city. After the deal is complete, we bring the cash back to the gang, who then deal out our fair share of earnings.
Earlier in my life I would have never dreamt of resorting to criminal measures, but these desperate times do call for desperate measures. Hopefully you'll understand.
December 1931:
Mr. Journal,
Work is going extremely well! Booker and I have been earning great profits as transporters. I’ve even managed to rent myself a room in a crowded apartment!
January 1932:
Mr. Journal,
Booker and I visited Ruth’s grave today. It has been one year now.
Work is still going good.
March 1932:
Mr. Journal,
Unexpected turn of events. Booker is dead. Word on the street is that he was killed for allegedly “keeping money from the gang”. They’re coming for me next. I have a grave feeling that I will not be writing to you again. Do not grieve for me, I have nothing left in life. When I thought I could rebuild, I am knocked back down once more, it is useless to fight my inevitable end.
With that I bid you farewell,
Walter.
Mr. Journal,
The terrible day has come.
Today William, the foreclosure agent from the bank, arrived at the house to finalize some documents. Every piece of furniture in the house is covered in plastic sheets. To think they would be talking everything I owned, from my beloved rocking chair, to the house itself, is quite the overwhelming thought. I can barely believe it as I write to you (Please excuse me if the paper sheet is slightly wrinkled, a few tears managed to escape). Ruth, God bless her soul, is finding it especially difficult to comprehend. One doctor we saw said she had some disease by the name of “depression”.
January 1931:
Mr. Journal,
God has been especially cruel to me.
In the morning, I walked into master bedroom to wake Ruth, but I was too late.
Rest In Peace, my lovely wife.
August 1931:
Mr. Journal,
We have a great deal of catching up to do. It has been quite the while since we last talked, and circumstances have greatly changed.
After Ruth’s departure, I struggled to find meaning in my life. You may not agree with me, but I find the two things most important to modern man are money and family. Both these things have been ruthlessly taken from me. To start my house was taken, along with everything I owned. Then, on a more painful note, came my wife. Poor Ruth.
Why would God ever do such terrible things? It is a question I have struggled with over the past few months, and one that you may help me answer.
August 1931:
Mr. Journal,
I would like to apologize. I forgot to explain many things in the last entry. Talking about Ruth got me very upset….
You should know that I am in New York City now. I reasoned that staying in the suburbs was not only unaffordable, but impractical considering the greater amount of employment opportunities in the city. So in that vein of thought, I hopped on a couple of baggage trains and found myself in the City.
Unfortunately New York City was not the solution. Work is even harder to come by here, and thousands of homeless, jobless people (like me) wander the streets as a result.
Life is terribly empty right now, and I have come to the conclusion that God has abandoned me, just like everything else.
September 1931:
Mr. Journal,
My savior has finally come!
One morning, I noticed a young Negro man in a newsboy cap and overalls staring at me from a distance. For the rest of the day the young Negro continued to follow me. Eventually I mustered the courage to approach him, and ask him why he was following me. You will be most surprised to hear that he was offering me a job, and he was simply following me to observe if I was a worthy candidate.
A job! After months of living homeless, it is a relief to hear his words. It is the chance to rebuild that I have dreamt of many a night. The young man didn’t explain the details of the job to me straight away, but whatever it is you may be assured that I will seize the opportunity.
September 1931:
Mr. Journal,
Today I met up with the Negro man I told you about last time. He introduced himself to me as Booker, and he explained the job. It is not exactly what I had imagined, but it is a job nonetheless...
To put it simply, he has offered me a position as his partner in crime. What do I mean, you might ask? Well read carefully, I will explain in detail. Booker works as an alcohol transporter for some local gang, widely known as the Five Point Gang (it's one of those Mafia type gangs that you may have heard about in the newspapers). Alcohol is still an illegal commodity, and transporting it is a very risky business. This is why he has asked for my assistance. From what he has described, it is a fairly straightforward process: we go to the local gang warehouse (disguised as a convenience store), get a shipment of alcohol, and deliver it to various speakeasy bars across the city. After the deal is complete, we bring the cash back to the gang, who then deal out our fair share of earnings.
Earlier in my life I would have never dreamt of resorting to criminal measures, but these desperate times do call for desperate measures. Hopefully you'll understand.
December 1931:
Mr. Journal,
Work is going extremely well! Booker and I have been earning great profits as transporters. I’ve even managed to rent myself a room in a crowded apartment!
January 1932:
Mr. Journal,
Booker and I visited Ruth’s grave today. It has been one year now.
Work is still going good.
March 1932:
Mr. Journal,
Unexpected turn of events. Booker is dead. Word on the street is that he was killed for allegedly “keeping money from the gang”. They’re coming for me next. I have a grave feeling that I will not be writing to you again. Do not grieve for me, I have nothing left in life. When I thought I could rebuild, I am knocked back down once more, it is useless to fight my inevitable end.
With that I bid you farewell,
Walter.
Arnold, I thoroughly enjoyed your journal entry style of writing, and the historical aspect of the narrative. I was wondering how you were going to relate your story to the quote in the epigraph, and you did it beautifully at the end of your piece. The story escalated a little too quickly for my liking at the end, when Booker dies and Walter is left wondering if he will perish as well. And why does Booker visit the grave with him? Have the two become close friends over the course of their illegal work? While it was also clear to me, I think you should specify the role of Prohibition in America at this time period to the reader a little further.
ReplyDeleteI loved the style of writing that you chose, it is very different than any other piece that I have read and it is a very interesting way to go about the assignment. I enjoyed reading this piece as it definitely kept me interested throughout. I agree with Josh in that the story seemed to go a bit too quickly and that you could have included more detail with relationships, causes of death, and more of Walter's personal reactions to all of the events. I did like the unique approach you took in representing your proverb - at the beginning of the story it was hard to say where you were going to take the story to have it show the proverb, but you did a great job of finding a non-literal way to portray it.
ReplyDeleteArnold, the journal entry format and the historical context make this a very enjoyable piece to read. I especially like the part where you used “Negro” and such terms to really convey the setting to the reader. However, the way you write this has some structural issues. The style and spacing of the dates makes it seem unlikely that it be a journal. For example, he writes to the journal as if it can mourn, as if it is a person. Instead, make the essay a collection of letters he has sent to a friend, or his mother, and that would make more sense because they would be able to mourn. Also letters would be sent months apart, like the way you wrote it.
ReplyDeleteP.S. How can Booker and the main character visit Ruth’s grave if the main character moved to New York from where he was living? Wouldn’t Ruth be buried at the place they had their home?
Arnold, you capture the era and setting of the story very well with your use of era specific ideas and language.Using the low economic state of the US during the prohibition era as a setting really allowed you to reflect and expand on the epigraph that you chose. Similarly to Alex I feel that your journal spacing is a bit too spread out; I think you can really elaborate on ideas like Ruth's death - how did this affect the narrator spiritually and mentally? Also towards the end some entries are terse and blunt - this is good to capture Walter's new busy life, but I feel that you should be able to expand upon idea's like despite Walter having a new life, he is still empty inside without his wife (hence visiting her grave). Overall great narrative my man, it is clean cut and easy to follow!
ReplyDeleteArnold, you capture the era and setting of the story very well with your use of era specific ideas and language.Using the low economic state of the US during the prohibition era as a setting really allowed you to reflect and expand on the epigraph that you chose. Similarly to Alex I feel that your journal spacing is a bit too spread out; I think you can really elaborate on ideas like Ruth's death - how did this affect the narrator spiritually and mentally? Also towards the end some entries are terse and blunt - this is good to capture Walter's new busy life, but I feel that you should be able to expand upon idea's like despite Walter having a new life, he is still empty inside without his wife (hence visiting her grave). Overall great narrative my man, it is clean cut and easy to follow!
ReplyDelete