Produced by Benjamin Klein
Jimmie Moore _of_ Bucktown
By Melvin E. Trotter
Chicago
The Winona Publishing Company
MCMIV
Copyright, 1904
by
The Winona Publishing Company
_August._
Contents
I. The Invasion Begun
II. "Der Gang"
III. "The Busted Funeral"
IV. Jimmie's New Pa
V. Mrs. Cook's "Opery"
VI. Mrs. Cook's First Prayer
VII. Floe
VIII. Bill's Pension
IX. "Auntie's Favorite Horse"
X. Jimmie's Education
XI. The Meeting in the Market
XII. Fred Hanks
XIII. "Fagin's Meetin'"
XIV. Fred and Doc
XV. The Picnic
XVI. Dave Strikes His Gait
Jimmie Moore of Bucktown
CHAPTER I
_The Invasion Begun_
"Please kin yer tell me where is der boss of dis Mishun?"
The superintendent turned sharply about and beheld a boy of
singularly striking appearance. His stature was that of a child
of ten or twelve years and his face that of a worn-out, heart-broken,
disappointed old man. His eyes, set far back in his head under
heavy eyebrows, indicated an almost abnormal development of
the perceptive faculties. In other respects the contour of the
head was not remarkable; but the face was one, once seen, never
to be forgotten. The nose was pointed and pinched, the cheeks
hollow, and the glance of his eye at once appealing and defiant.
There could be no doubt that this boy was a bread winner, and
that the burdens he carried were altogether too heavy for such
young shoulders.
From the ragged cap which he turned nervously in his hands to
the large pair of sharp-pointed ladies' shoes on his feet, every
garment was a misfit. The loss of a button from the neckband
of his blouse-waist permitted it to gap wide open and disclosed
the fact that he wore no underclothing. The day was bitterly
cold; and the boy's shivery look showed how greatly he suffered.
As the superintendent took in all these facts he realized that,
despite his unseemly attire and generally distracted appearance,
the boy was by no means an ordinary character. Down deep in
the dark gray eyes that never wavered under his steady gaze
he saw the making of a man mighty for good or evil.
"I guess I'm the man you want," said Morton, kindly. "Come into
my office."
Leading the way, he was followed by the boy into a small private
office at the back end of the big mission hall. Offering the
lad a seat, he turned to his desk, on which stood two telephones.
In an instant that boy was again upon his feet. Looking with
wide-open eyes, he inquired, "Be yer goin' ter call der bull?
I ain't as't yer fur nuthin'. Me Pa said yer was a good guy
and wouldn't squeal. I mus' go."
Morton intercepted the boy at the door. But it was some time
before he could persuade him that it was not his intention to
turn him over to the police, "the bull," for begging.
"I want to help you," he said. "I'll be your friend, and I won't
squeal on you either."
"Well, be yer Mister Morton?" asked the boy.
"Yes, that's my name," replied the superintendent. "And now
I want you to tell me all about your trouble. Who sent you to
me?"
"Me Pa. He heard your talk on der gospel wagon down at der square.
He don't talk about nuthin' else and he wants yer ter come an'
see him."
"Is he sick?"
"Sure he's sick. He's been in bed ever since Wednesday. Ma says
he's outer his head. Tuesday night he didn't come home home
from work, and Ma says, 'I guess he's drunk ag'in.' We waited
fur him till eleven o'clock and den I couldn't stay awake no
longer. 'Sides, der wood was all burnt up and we had ter go
ter bed ter keep warm. At five in der mornin' Mike Hardy, der
bar-keep' at Fagin's, saw Pa layin' in Rice's wagon box, out
in front of der market. It snowed on Pa, and he was near frozed.
Mike calls Bill Cook and dey brings Pa home. Bill and Pa is
chums; an' Bill gets drunk, too. Ma says dey bot' works fur
Fagin. When dey gits paid dey take all der money straight to
Fagin's and spends it for booze."
"Well, what's your name and where do you live?" interrupted
Morton.
"Me name's Jimmie Moore, and we live down in Bucktown near der
market."
"Go on with your story, sonny," said Morton.
"After dey got him in der house Ma and Bill gits his clothes
off and Bill goes and gets some wood and built a fire. I carried
me mornin' papers, and when I gits back I stayed wit' Pa while
Ma went ter Ransome's house up on der Avenue to do deir washin'.
Pa he slept all day till four in the afternoon, and den he raised
up straight in bed and, lookin' at somethin' in der corner of
der room, said, 'Can't yer see me hand? I raised it twice. Why
don't yer come and git me?' I couldn't see nuthin', but he keeps
on talkin' dat way fur a long time. Den he laid down again and
cried and said he wanted der mishun man ter come and see him.
When Ma gits back she sent me to der barber shop to git Fred
Hanks ter telerphone ter Dr. Possum. He's der city doctor. He
looked at Pa and said he had ammonia. Den Ma she cried, 'cause
she had no money ter git supper for us kids and fer the doctor's
paper, too."
"Pretty soon Mrs. Cook, that's Bill's missus, comes in and she
said she'd help take care of Pa. The neighbors done all dey
could, but we ain't got no money, er no wood, and der rent ain't
paid. We ain't had no fire since yisterday, and dis' mornin'
Ma sits down and cries 'cause der's nothin' for der kids ter
eat. Her and me don't mind, but we got four girl kids that's
hungry all der time. Pa set up in bed and said, 'Go to der mishun
man and tell him I mus' see him.' Ma sent me up ter see if yer
won't come down ter see Pa."
Finding a knitted scarf for the boy to tie about his neck, the
superintendent and Jimmie started for the sick man's bedside.
The section of the city where the Moore family lived, locally
known as Bucktown, contained the only real slums to be found
in the busy and rapidly growing metropolis. It was located on
a low tract of ground between the city market and the river,
and was inhabited chiefly by negroes and very poor white people.
On the way Jimmie continued his story, and the superintendent
tried to tell him about the Father above who loves the poor
and who sent His Son to die that all the world might live and
have access to the unsearchable riches of God. "The only help
that is sure and lasting," he said, "comes from God. He can
find a way out of your trouble for you."
"I don't see how He kin help us," replied the boy. "They won't
give us no help at der city hall, 'cause we ain't been here
long enough. We ain't no city case er nothin' else, I guess.
The man said he would put us kids in der Children's Home and
Pa in der poorhouse, er send us all back ter Dalton. Ma said
she'd die widout us kids."
When the boy stopped talking Morton took him by the hand and
told him about the Jesus who loves little boys and their fathers
and mothers, and how He would do all things for them. "If you
believe in Him," said the superintendent, "you can ask for anything
in His name and get it."
"Where is Jesus?" asked Jimmie.
"He's right here now," replied Morton. "You can't see Him, but
He's always with us to watch over us and care for us."
This was a stunner for Jimmie. For a full minute he looked straight
ahead of him, as if in deep thought, and then raising his eyes
until they met Morton's, said: "Watcher givin' us, Cully? Do
yer tink I am bug-house?"
"No, I don't think you're crazy, but what I have said is true,
Jimmie. You can't see the wind, but you know there is wind because
you feel it. I cannot see Jesus with my natural eye, but I know
He is here, just as well as you know that the wind is blowing.
I trust Him for everything, and He supplies all my needs. I
have loved Him and He has kept me for seven years. I never help
any one myself; I do it for Him. He gives me the love and the
money, and if I help you, you must thank Him and not me."
"Maybe He loves good boys; but I'm no good, ner never was. He
can't love no kid like me, kin he?"
"Yes, my boy, just as much as He does me."
"Den He don't know me, for everybody dat knows me says I'm bad.
Me Ma, even she says so. I guess He don't love no one in Bucktown."
"Yes, He loves every one in Bucktown, and He will care for you
all if you will trust Him and ask Him for what you need."
"Kin I ask Him fur somethin' ter eat."
"Yes, you can, and you'll get it too. But you must love Him
and thank Him for what you get."
Jimmie looked up to see if Morton really meant what he was saying.
When he saw the look of intense earnestness on the superintendent's
face he knew that he was not deceiving him.
"I hope He'll help Pa," said Jimmie thoughtfully. "I guess he
needs it mor'n der rest of us do."
"If your Pa will tell God what a sinner he has been and will
ask Him for forgiveness, He will help him. God is a friend of
sinners, Jimmie."
"This is where we live," said the boy, turning to go into a
miserable shack.
The house was one of the most disreputable looking places in
the neighborhood. It consisted of a lean-to portion of a house
from which the original building had been moved away. There
was no wall beneath; the building stood on four posts, one at
each corner, and open on all sides, the wind having a clean
sweep beneath the floor in every direction. Within there were
two rooms. In the front one was a bed upon which the sick man
lay, an old table, two chairs and a box to sit on. In the next
room an old wood-burning cook-stove, a big box for table and
cupboard combined, and a broken mirror constituted its complete
furnishing. The roof leaked, and most of the spaces in the window
sashes were filled with rags and paper instead of glass.
A baby of six months, lying in a market basket, was being pulled
about the room by an older sister. When Morton entered, two
other girls, older than the baby, one two, the other past three
years of age, darted under the bed and peeked from beneath the
ragged comfort hanging over the edge.
"Dis is Mister Morton from der Mission," said Jimmie proudly,
still clasping the hand of the superintendent, "and he says
dat Jesus loves every bloomin' one of us, and'll be our friend
and owns the whole business. If we lives fur Him, He lives fur
us, and--and--"
"You shut up, Jim," said his mother, as with her apron she wiped
the dirt off the seat of the nearest chair.
"Sit down, Mister Morton," she said. "Glad to see you. We ain't
got much of a place here; but Robert wanted to see you so bad,
I sent Jimmie up to the Mission to bring you."
After greeting the little ones, Morton went to the bed and spoke
to Mr. Moore. He was sick indeed; and the superintendent knew
that he was facing a man who would never stand upon his feet
again.
"Oh, sir," said the sick man, "I'm dying, and I'm not saved.
I know I'm not fit to go, and I don't know the way to git fit.
I heard you talk on the gospel wagon and I've tried to find
God by myself, but I don't seem to get any answer to my prayers.
Back in Pennsylvania, at a meeting in our little country schoolhouse,
I promised God I would live for Him, but after we was married
I came out West, and settled in this country where it was wild.
Maybe you know how it is. I learned to drink, and that has spoiled
all my chances. Since I've been sick here I've seen it all over
again, and I want God to save me before I die. I know I've been
awful wicked, but I heard you say God loved everybody; now I
want you to pray for me."
Moore broke into tears as he thought of his awful sin, and he
was weeping bitterly. The superintendent read the third chapter
of John slowly and with emphasis, and told of the marvelous
love of God that makes the way for the salvation of even the
most unworthy. The man said he was ready to give up, but wanted
first to confess his wickedness. The story of his life was one
of toil and privation. He had learned to drink after he became
a man and had a family. From that time on his descent was rapid.
He made no attempt to shield himself, but laid bare before the
superintendent and before his own family all the secrets of
his sinful career. He left his home at Dalton to escape arrest,
and when times got hard in the city he feared to go back to
his old home on account of the possible consequences of his
sin.
When he had finished, the superintendent pointed him to the
One who alone could help him. The sick man said he would believe
and trust God. That little gathering, with the prayers that
followed, was an experience that Morton will remember as one
of the events of his life. The wife also expressed a desire
to know the Saviour, and both prayed for forgiveness.
There was a joy there that seemed to fill the old shed with
the glory of God. Moore's eyes beamed with love, and the whole
family seemed to rejoice in the peace that had come to him on
his sick bed. Then the superintendent sung a hymn, and little
Jimmie, standing close by his side, grasped his hand, and, looking
up into his face, said, "If Jesus will love me I'll love Him
and be his boy." Morton took him to the grocery and market.
When he left him on the corner, with a basket well filled with
good things to eat, he said, "Now, Jimmie, I'll see you in the
morning. You tell your Ma and every one that Jesus is your friend
and sent you this basket."
"I'll do it, yer bet; and I'll tank Him for dis lot of stuff.
Gee! We'll eat till we bust!"