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THE ANARCHIST

BA Novelb

JOHN SMOLENS

hree Rivers Pre ss

New York


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Copyright 2009 by John Smolens

Tis is a work o ction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

either are the product o the authors imagination or are used

ctitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events,

or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Tree Rivers Press,

an imprint o the Crown Publishing Group, a division o

Random House, Inc., New York.

www.crownpublishing.com

Tree Rivers Press and the ugboat design are registeredtrademarks o Random House, Inc.

Cataloging-in-Publication data is on le with the Library o Congress.

ISBN 978-0-307-35189-0

Printed in the United States o America

Design by Elizabeth Rendeisch

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

First Edition

www.ThreeRiversPress.com
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T H E T E M P L E O F M U S I C

You will never stamp out anarchy any more

than you can keep down the waves o the sea

with a broom. You may kil l an anarchist but

you wil l never ki l l an idea.E m m a G o l d m a n

C h i c a g o r i b u n e

S e p t e m b e r ,

http://www.threeriverspress.com/


6/26

I

AT FIRST LIGHTa carriage stopped on the towpath above

the Erie Canal. Four men climbed out and walked single

le across a ootbridge, Captain Lloyd Savin leading two

uniormed police offi cers and Pinkerton detective Jake Norris,who ollowed a ways behind, his head lowered as he gazed down

at the water. He had recently arrived rom Washington, D.C., and

this was the rst time hed seen the canal. He expected it to be

wider. Tough it was August, a raw wind blew in rom Lake Erie,

a reminder that in Buffalo winter was never ar off, and an occa-

sional drop o rain tapped on the hard dome o his bowler. He

took great pride in his hat, which had white satin lining and cost

him ve dollars.

On the ar side o the canal a barge, the Glockenspiel,was tied

to a pier in ront o a brick warehouse; it was a shallow-draf,

broad-beamed vessel, a good seventy eet in length, designed to

negotiate the low bridges that spanned the canal. Te our men

descended on a narrow plank to the deck and went astern, wheretwo other uniormed policemen stood over the body, which was

covered by a rayed blanket.

Savin didnt appear interested in the body; instead, he

approached the man who was standing in the open pilothouse

door. Tis your boat?



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4 J O H N S M O L E N S

It is.

Your name?

Bruener. Klaus Bruener. He had a heavy German accent and

was easily over six eet tall. His nose was large and crooked, nodoubt broken several times, and his hands were enormous.

Savin took a pack o urkish Delights rom the pocket o his

raincoat and lit a cigarette. He had a perpetual grimace as though

he were enduring constant pain. Whered you nd her? He

icked the matchstick into the canal.

Bruener nodded toward the ootbridge. Floating under there.

We are just coming in rom Rochester when my son spots some-

thing rom the bow. So he climbs down and pulls her out. He

smiled, revealing brown teeth. Dont think the boy ever touched

a naked woman beore. Kind o upsets himmore n that she be

dead. I you take my meaning.

Norris cleared his throat to get Savins attention, and then he

asked Bruener, Where is your son now?Bruener tugged on his wool cap a moment. He looked like he

wasnt going to bother to answer, but then something seemed to

make him reconsider. Below in the cabin.

Savin went to the blanket now and lifed one corner. Norris

was trying to determine whether his hesitance was because he

didnt want to see what was underneath or he wanted to hold the

moment o anticipation a moment longer. When Savin tossed the

blanket aside, he glanced down at the womans body, and then

looked away as he drew on his cigarette.

It was dark, Bruener said. He might not a seen her i it

wasnt or the hat.

She was only wearing a yellow elt hat, pulled down snug on

her scalp. Her esh was pale blue and bruises stood out on herarms, neck, and ace, which was badly swollen.

Look at them nipples, one o the policemen whispered. Big

as ried eggs.

She called hersel Clementine, Bruener said.

You knew her? Norris asked.



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T H E A N A R C H I S T 5

Bruener nearly smiled. Worked in the house run by Big

Maud.

She come down here a lot to work the barges? Norris said.

You might say that, Bruener said. She knowed a lot ocanawlers.

Norris gazed up at the small group o men who had col-

lected in ront o the warehouse. Tey stood watching, hands

shoved in the pockets o their jackets and bib overalls. Te

country was ull o such men, day laborers who laid railroad

track, constructed buildings, loaded goods on and off boats and

wagons. Just by looking at them Norris could tell which ones

had only recently arrived in the United States. Some Washing-

ton politicians believed that it would take a good war to prune

the immigrants.

Savin took off his elt hat and shaped the indented crown with

his orenger; it was a surprisingly intimate, sensual gesture, and

when he saw Norris watching his hand he winced. His black hairwas heavily oiled and so smooth against his scalp that it might

have been painted on. Like Norris, he understood the advantage

o dressing welltailored suits, a topcoat, and leather shoes that

take a regular polish. It was the rst thing Norris had noticed

about him, along with the act that the man smoked cigarettes

almost constantly. He was several years younger than Norris, who

was thirty-eight. Looking around at the other policemen, Savin

said, Anybody here buy sheet time at Big Mauds lately? Te

men stared off as though they hoped not to be noticed.

Savin put his hat back on and grimaced around his cigarette.

Now I want all o you to start knocking on doorsevery house,

every business rom here down to Black Rock Harbor. Find some-

body who saw or heard something.Te policemen appeared relieved to get away rom Savin as

they rushed off the barge. He turned to Norris and said playully,

Want to go, too, Detective? ry your hand at some mundane

police work?

Id rather talk to Brueners son.



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Savin looked as though hed been insulted, but then he said to

Bruener, Get your boy up here.

Norris went over to the body and leaned down or a closer

look. In some places the skin was raw and bloody, but there wereno cuts or gashes. Te bruises were purple and black, and her lef

eye seemed to have collapsed in the socket. Whoever did this

used something that wouldnt break the skin.

Like a st? Savin said.

Norris bent down closer until he was within inches o her

ace. Look, in her hair.

Reluctantly, Savin leaned over her as well. I dont know what

that isthe doctor will tell when he shows up. Its not hair, but

something else. He straightened up, took Norris by the arm, and

walked him to the stern o the barge. Quietly, he said, Tis is one?

Yes.

She get anything or you?

Norris shook his head. She only just started working orme.

Whens the last time you saw her?

wo days ago, in a ca, the Tree Brothers.

Savin icked his cigarette butt into the water. So she was

working or you down hereor was she just providing her usual

services?

Both, probably. I asked her where she could nd anarchists

in Buffalo and she said anywherethe saloons, the whorehouses,

the churches, the slaughterhouses, the actories. But she said to try

the canal rst. Its how people come and go rom Buffalo.

Savin nodded as he glanced at the body or a moment. urn-

ing to Norris again, he asked, Ever uck her? Norris stared back

at him, and when he realized he wasnt going to get an answer,Savin took out his pack o cigarettes. Right, he said. Youre a

real proessional.

What I am is back where I started when I rst got here rom

Washington, Norris said. Ill need somebody else. Soon.

Another whore? Well, weve got plenty o those in Buffalo.



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No. Not this time. I want a manone that works down

here on the boats, a canawler, as they call themselves. I need a

canawler.

Savin dragged deeply on his cigarette; he held the smokedown or a moment and then released it, saying in a tight voice,

I dont know i inormers and spies are ever going to help you

catch anarchists.

Tey have in Washington.

Tis isnt Washington, Norris.

On that we agree.

Bruener and his son climbed up a ladder rom below and

stepped out through the open pilothouse door. Tis is Jose, my

son.

Savin walked over to the boy, who was very lean, with a long,

sullen ace. He might have been eighteen. Warily his eyes drifed

toward the naked body, then back to Savin.

You pulled her out o the canal? Savin asked.Te boy nodded.

And you rst saw her where?

Jose raised a long arm and pointed toward the ootbridge.

Savin stepped closer to the boy. Youre the loquacious one,

arent you?

He dont speak, Bruener said. Been mute since birth, and

he dont hear too good.

Isnt thatgrand, Savin said. Can you tell me what timeyou

saw her?

Te boy held up our ngers.

Four this morning, Savin said. About two hours ago.

Te boy nodded.

Norris leaned against the stern rail o the barge. His handtouched something coarse and he looked down. Beside him was

a cleat, with a dock line attached. Te rope had to be as thick as

his wrist, and he plucked at it with his ngers, pulling away hemp

bers, stiff, like bits o straw. Savin, he said. I think I know

what the killer used on her.



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Norris got up and went to Clementines body. Leaning down

close to her ace, he removed some bers rom her cold wet hair.

Holding both samples out, he said, Rope. Whoever did this beat

her with a rope like that.Maybe, Detective. Savin appeared angry now as they

watched a heavy man, carrying a black bag, walk gingerly across

the ootbridge. But why dont we let Dr. Rivard gather the evi-

dence? Savin went to the bottom o the plank and offered the

doctor a hand as though he were a woman.

Dr. Rivard wore a pince-nez and was winded rom the climb

down to the boat. In the uture, Captain, I would preer it i you

would arrange that the dead bodies in Buffalo turn up on dry

land, he said. I detest any vessel that oatsbecause I do not.

He alone laughed at his joke, and then he put his bag down on the

deck and began to inspect the body.

One o the policemen Savin had sent up to the houses above

the canal came back to the pier. Sir, i I could have a word withyou?

All right, Cullen. Savin climbed the plank up to the pier and

the two men talked quietly, their backs to the barge.

It began to rain lightly, each drop making a hollow sound on

Norriss bowler. He looked directly at the boy and said slowly,

Jose, how was she positioned in the water?

Te boy appeared nervous as he watched Norriss mouth.

Was she aceup? Norris held his hand out, palm toward the

sky, and then turned it over. Or acedown?

Jose nodded.

And she was just like that, Norris said. No clothes, other

than the hat?

Te boy nodded vehemently, his eyes growing wide.I wonder when her clothes were taken off, Norris said.

Beore or afer she was dead. urning to the doctor, he asked, I

dont suppose theres evidence o sexual activity?

Te doctor said pleasantly, We can nd out.



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When Cullen lef the pier again, Norris climbed up the plank

and joined Savin. Te rain was becoming steady.

Tis is a lot o work over a whore, Savin said as he lit another

cigarette. Dead ones arent much use to anyone.I doubt she was killed because o her abilities as a prostitute,

Norris said. Bruener has assured us she was well qualied. She

must have learned something.

About anarchists? Savin said skeptically. But o course she

was killed beore she had a chance to report to you. Norris only

looked at him in the rain. Why they sent you out rom Wash-

ington, I dont know, Savin said. Because the president is com-

ing to Buffalo next month? What can you do here in a month? You

Pinkertons arent . . . Savin hesitated, and then he said, You arent

necessary.

Norris understood Savin taking offense; in his position, he

too would resent an outsider. With Savin, it was important not

to ask or something, and he said, It will be necessary or me tond another one.

Rightanother spy, who can inltrate and inorm on the

anarchists in Buffalo. Savins ace grew tighter, like a st. o

ensure our presidents saety while he visits Buffalo.

Find me one.

Sure I couldnt just get you another whore?

No, Norris said patiently. I said I want a canawler, one who

goes to places like Big Mauds.

Tere must be a ew o those in Buffalo, Savin said. Te

anarchists, the bastards, theyll probably kill him, too.

I need one that can stay alive long enough to be useul.

Beore Savin could answer, the doctor called up rom the

barge. Well, thats done.Tey looked down at Rivardto stay dry he had stepped

under the pilothouse roo next to Bruener and his son. Clemen-

tines body lay acing them in the rain, legs parted, knees at odd

angles. Te rain had matted the pubic hair against her skin.



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1 0 J O H N S M O L E N S

Tis woman has entertained recently. Rivard had to raise

his voice now because the rain was beating loudly on the deck

o the barge. Teres plenty o you know what, you know

where.Some spy. Savin exhaled smoke. Just down here on the

canal, doing her job.

I so, why kill a whore? Norris said.

Ethical or moral reason? Savin said. Or maybe she just

wasnt very accommodating.

No, she ound something out.

Norris looked at the group o men who were now leaning

against the brick wall o the warehouse, trying to keep rom get-

ting soaked. Tey gazed sullenly down at the barge, as though the

police were the guilty ones, responsible or everything rom the

rain to the death o a prostitute. One o the men was holding a

mule by the reins, and when the animal brayed, the sound echoed

out over the canal, plaintive and sorrowul.

cC

HYDE was early.

I you wanted something in St. Johns Protectory, i you needed

something, you learned to get there rst. Te nuns always ladled

out ull bowls o soup to the boys at the head o the line, but with

time their arms tired and the portions grew smaller.

So he arrived early and waited a good ten minutes in the

doorway o Fallons Apothecary across rom the Tree Brothers

Ca. Tough hed never met Jake Norrisand Captain Savinhad offered no descriptionthe Pinkerton detective was easy to

recognize when he walked down Market Street: a large, well-ed

man in a black suit and hard collar stood out in the Polonia sec-

tion o Buffalo. As Norris approached a vendors cart that sold

noisy chickens, several old women in babushkas instinctively



14/26


scattered out o his way. Norris entered the ca and sat at a table

by the ront window. Hyde wished hed ound a place that wasnt

visible rom the street. Norris removed his bowler, which lef a

neat indentation in his short blond hair. His skin was the coloro a peeled potato. He opened the morning edition o the Buffalo

Courier,and or several minutes did not look up rom reading.

His actions were calculated and deliberate, and suggested that he

knew he was being observedand that he welcomed the act.

Hyde glanced at his own reection in the window o the

apothecary. His thick dark mustache concealed his mouth,

and the hollowness o his cheeks suggested that he could use a

good meal. Tough it was August, his jacket was buttoned, with

the collar turned up. When he aced the ca again Norris had

put down his paper and was staring out the window directly at

him.

Hyde crossed the street, almost as i drawn. When he opened

the door and entered the ca, Norris said, Ive ordered you co-ee. Come, sit.

Hyde approached the table. Detective Norris?

Jake Norris, but just Norris is ne.

People usually call me Hyde.

No rst name? Your olks gave you one, didnt they? Norris

touched his own cheekbones. Teyre prominentEastern Euro-

pean, perhaps, but I cant quite place

I dont know where my amilys rom. Im certain I was born

in the United States, here in Buffalo, or nearby. Hyde sat at the

table as the waiter, an old man in a soiled apron, brought the

coffee.

Something to eat? Norris asked.

Maybe later, Hyde said, and the waiter retreated.But your mother and ather . . . Norris began.

I never knew my mother, Hyde said, and I suspect she

never really knew my ather. He waited or the detective to gure

it out.

Orphaned, Norris said.



15/26


Im told that when the nuns ound me on the steps o

St. Johns Protectory it couldnt have been more than a ew hours

afer birth. Tere were hundreds o boysItalian, Polish, Ger-

man, Russian, you name itand they stuck with their own kind,a lot like the neighborhoods in this city. I dont know who my

parents were, let alone where they were rom.

An outcast among outcasts, Norris said with satisaction.

So you learned to end or yoursel. Well, the thing is you know

how to survive. He nodded toward the window. I saw some-

thing out there when you crossed the street, something invisible

about you. You can disappear into a crowd, go unnoticedthats

an excellent trait. Its useul.

You spotted me.

Its my job. Norris took out a cigar case, a penknie, and

matches, and laid them on the table. He opened the silver case,

removed one cigar, and then with the penknie began cutting the

tip. I like to make a little birds mouth, see? he said. Garcias.You read the newspapers?

Hyde nodded.

Ten you know who smokes theseWilliam McKinley. You

can say what you want about the president, but the man knows

cigars. Norris studied his workmanship or a moment, and then

picked up the box o matches. He might have been perorming a

magic trick, the way he struck a matchstick and puffed slowly as

he lit the cigar, sending blue smoke across the table. Suddenly, he

said, Im sorrywould you like one?

No, thank you. Hyde sipped rom his cup, and then sucked

the beads o coffee rom the bottom o his mustache.

According to the papers, the president smokes twenty o

these a day, Norris said as he studied Hyde. You seem unim-pressed. Let me guess. Youre in your late twenties. But there is

nothing youthul about your acethe cheeks, already sunken

and deeply creased. At the rate youre going, most men wouldnt

make it to thirty-ve. He exhaled smoke, which hung in the air,



16/26


coiling, slow and languid. I like to think o mysel reaching sixty,

when I will retire to a wide ront porch and smoke twenty cigars

a day.

He took a cigar rom his case and placed it on the table next toHydes coffee cup. For later on, then. You strike me as a patient

man. You can wait to eat, you can wait or a Garciaor perhaps

you dont smoke?

No, I like a cigar, Hyde said. But usually at night.

Yes, with a glass o beer. What else, Hyde? Whiskey?

Not to excess.

Not usually, you mean. Norris smiled around his cigar.

Women? You like the women? Or maybe youre married?

Captain Savin didnt say.

Im not married.

Norris moved his shoulders slightly. You like the saloon

dancers? Te upstairs girls in the houses o assignation? You

requent places like Big Mauds, a real palace o carnal pleasure,I understand, except one o the girls was ound in the canal a

couple o days ago.

Clementine, Hyde said. I heard.

Yes, its been in all the papers. She one o your girls?

No.

Never?

Never.

Any idea why someone would beat her to death and throw

her in the Erie Canal?

No idea.

Norris placed both elbows on the table. I can tell you why.

It had nothing to do with sex. She ound something out about

someone down there on the canal, and they killed her beore shecould tell me. Norris leaned even arther over the table, speaking

in a whisper. It was anarchists. Tats why Im here.

She was working or you?

Verygood, Hyde. Norris sat back now. So Savin sends his



17/26


men around to Big Mauds and other places like that, and they

question men who work on the canal. I know how that goes.

When a man is araid you can tell inside two minutes i he really

knows anything. Norris rolled the ash o his cigar on the edge ohis saucer. But youSavin says you were different.

I dont know anything about Clementine.

ell you the truth, Im not interested in a dead prostitute,

Norris said. Im interested in what she ound out. He paused

a moment. Savin sent you to mehe said you knew something,

and you seemed willing to help. So tell me, Hyde, why is that?

Hyde glanced around the ca, which was ull, with most o

the customers speaking Polish, and then he leaned orward and

spoke quietly. I was picked up when the police raided a workers

meeting at a hall here in Polonia and they questioned me or a

long time. At rst Savin washe was like all the police, but then

he seemed to change his mind and had a meal brought in. He even

offered me a cigar aferward.But it wasnt a Garcia.

He smokes a lot o cigarettes.

You must have impressed him. You must have said some-

thing interesting.

Savin was skeptical, like you.

Norris glanced down at the table a moment. Your hands, he

said. Teyre unusually large, and callousedpowerul hands or

such a lean man. You get hands like that rom working on the barges.

Ill tell you, with the proper diet, Im convinced America could be a

country o strong men. Tis could be a great nation. He regarded the

smoke that hung in the air, and then asked, You live on a barge?

Depends. I have a room in a boardinghouse, when Im in

Buffalo.Certainly. Come and go. And youve been working on the

canal or years?

Since I was twelve.

You ran away rom this St. Johns Protectory. Norris smiled.

And hid on the Erie Canal. Its not much o a lie.



18/26


Being a canawlers better than working in the

slaughterhousesIve done that, too.

Granted.

Tere was a moment o silence. Norris seemed to be waiting,and Hyde nally said, Savin said he knew someone who could

help me.

Tats right. You sure you wouldnt like a cigar?

Hyde picked the cigar up off the table. All right.

I nd they steady the nerves. Norris slid the penknie and

matches across the table. Now lets talk about what you told

Savin. I he was too skeptical, he wouldnt have recommended

you to me.

As he lit his cigar, Hyde surveyed the ca once again. You

Pinkertonsyoure always looking or someone on the inside.

Inside the workers movement, yes. You are one o them

and they trust you. Norris hesitated. And you told Savin, who

smokes a lot o cigarettes, that you met a man who talks aboutassassinating the president.

I did.

Norris waited, and nally said, He has a name.

Hyde looked out the window a moment, and then back at

Norris. Leon Czolgosz. Very quiet usually, but then sometimes

he starts to boast about changing history. He talks about how it

should be our duty to kill the president. Tats his word, duty.

And you believe him.

I rarely believe what people say, but I believe their eyes. And

he has these pale blue eyes. Tey arethey tell you hes very

quiet, but inside theres a great deal, you know, going on in his

head. Hyde leaned over the table slightly and whispered, Savin

said I should tell you this because youre here to help protect thepresident.

Tats why I was sent out rom Washington. McKinley will

visit Buffalo next month.

What will you do?

It depends, Norris said, on whether I believe you.



19/26


Hyde leaned back, insulted.

Norris took his cigar rom his mouth and smiled. At heart,

youre honest, and youre a realist, Hyde. I dont think youd

make this up. Te number o death threats against the presidenthas increased considerably since he began his second term last

March. Anarchists are trying to kill leaders here and in Europe.

Last year they shot the Italian king, and that has only made them

more determined.

So i Czolgosz is a threat, you can arrest him?

Youre talking about a potential threat. I thats the case

we should arrest hal o Buffaloand Cleveland, and Pater-

son, and entire neighborhoods in Chicago, too. But where do

we start? With the Italians, the Russians, the Hungarians, the

Jews? No, we should watch this Leon Czolgoszsee what he

does, who he associates with. I he is a threat, he cant be doing

this alone. Tat will be your job. Norris worked on his cigar

or a moment. Te act is, Hyde, I dont want you to do any-thing different rom what youre doing now. Keep your ears

open down on the canal and at Big Mauds. Continue to go to

workers meetings. Read Free Society,and listen to impassioned

speeches about the virtues o socialism and communism. Keep

close to these people. And i you can get Emma Goldman in

the sack, which I understand isnt too diffi cult, give her a good

poke or me.

Hyde removed the cigar rom his mouth. You want to know

what they talk about? But you already know this. Tey talk about

improved working conditions, better wagesthey talk about

reedom.

Fine, let them talk all they wantits a ree country and

people can be as stupidly idealistic as they want, Norris said. Butpeople like Czolgosz talk about presidents and kings. Te reason

youre here is because you have come to the realization that youre

not dealing with idealists. What would you call them, these people

who plot to kill their leaders?



20/26


Hyde considered the tip o his cigar. Wrong. Tey are

wrong.

Absolutely. And your worker is going to remain cold, hun-

gry, and sick, no matter how many speeches Red Emma gives.Tese people, they dont want to earnanything, they just want it

handedto them. Were really talking about taking responsibility

or ones own lie, Hyde. Tenreedom will ollow. I believe that,

and I think you do, toothats what you did when you ran away

rom that orphanage. Otherwise, we wouldnt be here now. Nor-

ris cleared his throat. I can give you ve dollars a week to start.

He leaned back as though he himsel were stunned by such a

gure.

Tats not enough, Hyde said.

For the brieest moment, Norriss eyes turned hard, and then

he smiled. What can you make working on the canalour, ve

dollars a week? Listen, show me what you can do, and then well

see what youre really worth.Hyde turned his head and stared out the window. Te ven-

dor who had been selling chickens was pushing his cart down

Market Street, the wooden wheels leaving deep urrows in the

mud.

You know the Pinkerton motto? Norris asked.

Te Eye Never Sleeps, Hyde said, still gazing out the

window.

Good. You can become a part o that, i you handle this or

me.

Te eye that never sleeps grows weary, tired.

Not i theres enough o us lookingthen we grow vigilant

and strong.

We become a great nation. Hyde nally turned to Norris.Very good, Norris said. You are a patient man, Hyde, and

patience is a useul quality in this line o work. It keeps the mind

clear, the eyes sharp.

Hyde crushed his cigar out in his saucer. So does hunger.



21/26


cC

THE air in the crowded hall was stiing hot, smelling o sweatand damp wool clothing, yet windows were kept closed or ear

o alerting the police. Te speaker, Johann Steaniak, was a

glassworker rom Milwaukee whose orelock danced on his damp

brow as he thumped the podium with his st. People orgot their

discomort in the heat, raising their arms, cheering, and applaud-

ing as Steaniak raged on about wages, eight-hour workdays,

and better conditions in mills and actories. He might have been

a preacher at Sunday meeting, the way he led the crowd like an

orchestra, building it to a evered pitch, only to bring it back

down to absolute silence, so that when he whispered the name o

J. P. Morgan there was a collective horried gasp, as though

he had spoken the name o Satan himsel. When he was n-

ished, everyone was standing as they shouted with sts raisedand then it was over, and, exhausted, they began to le out o the

hall.

Leon Czolgosz remained seated on a wooden bench next

to a window near the back o the hall. He liked to let the

others leave rst; something about the emptiness o the room

appealed to him. Same thing on a trainhe was ofen the last

to leave.

He turned to Hyde and said, Been listening to speeches like

that since I was a boy.

Tis was a good one, Hyde said. He sat with his arms olded

as he stared toward the now empty stage.

Tere used to be gatherings in the room above my amilys

grocery store in Cleveland, Czolgosz said. Te entire neighbor-hood would come to hear some socialist or communist. It wasnt

like the Catholic masses we attendedthis was the true passion

play.

At least the police didnt break things up tonight.

I any blood would be drunk, it would be our own.



22/26


Tey were alone now except or a ew old women who

swept the oor and collected discarded handbills. Well, it

makes me thirsty, Hyde said as he got to his eet. A speech

like that makes you want a cigar, a beer, and whiskeythe goodwhiskey.

Right, top-shel, Czolgosz said. Who has time or that

ve-cent stuff?

a hell with the temperance people.

Czolgosz continued to stare at the podium. He was good

tonight, but hes no Emma Goldman.

So well drink to her.

Czolgosz turned toward the window next to him, and he

could see himsel dimly reected in the glass. Tere was an

unusual grace to the angle o his jaw. His hair, parted on the

right in the reection, was blond, and most disconcerting was

how his lips appeared ull and even curvaceously eminine. But

it was the eyes, his pale blue eyes, that ofen seemed to trans-orm people, as though he possessed some unique, perhaps even

magical power over them. Standing up, he said, Yes, a dram or

Emma Goldman.

Te cool night air was a relie as they walked through Polonia.

Mud caked their boots and there was the smell o horse manure,

chimney smoke, stale beer, and cooked sausage, onions, cab-

bage. Voices burst rom open saloon doorsplaces with names

such as Mick Pickles Palace and the Erie Strutters Dance Hall,

where English was seldom heard. Te alleys were littered with

pickpockets and prostitutes, lingering in the shadows.

You know I heard Goldman speak in Cleveland last May,

Czolgosz said. Im telling you, she can set an audience on re.

She ofen causes riots and the police have to break them up.She could make a man commit murder, Hyde said. She

convinced Alexander Berkman to try to kill Carnegies manager,

Henry Clay Frick.

What a botched job. Berkman gets into Fricks offi ce in

Pittsburgh with a gunbut he cant even shoot straight! Ten he



23/26


pulls a knie and stabs the man, but still he lives. When workers

struck at the Homestead mill, Frick sent in the scabs and hun-

dreds o Pinkertons to protect them. And because he survived the

assassination attempt, Frick became a hero. So how do you getclose to them? Men like Frick are surrounded by guards all the

time now.

With your light hair, you could almost pass or a

Pinkerton.

Men like me, or youwe are not going to be mistaken or

those bastards.

You really think so? Ten how do you get close enough? You

must have help.

Not necessarily. You blend inyou become Mr. Nobody,

Czolgosz said. Nobody but Poles can pronounce my name, so

I tell people my name is Fred C. Nieman. Ten they dont even see

me. Tis is a war o ideas. Invisibility can be a weapon.

rue, Hyde said. But be careul, Fred Nieman, or EmmaGoldman will make a good weapon out o you.

I would like that, Czolgosz said.

Really?

Really.

Youve mentioned this beore, that its your duty, Hyde said,

and sometimes I think youre

It is my duty, Czolgosz said. We deeated Spain in Cuba and

the Philippines, and now Americas preparing to conquer the world.

But look around us! o walk through these neighborhoods it appears

that the world has sent its deeated to Buffalo. And its the same in

Cleveland, Detroit, and Chicagotheyre importing a whole new

slave class. Industry thrives on our cheap labor.

Tis is true, and this is why the socialist andA ew more pennies per hour is not the solution. Socialism,

communismthey dont . . . Czolgosz stopped walking. Do

you know what historians will make o ? Teyll say Ameri-

cans were a hardworking, industrious people. Teyll remember



24/26

T H E A N A R C H I S T 2 1

men in boiled white shirts and stiff collars, and women in satin

gowns with their hair tied up under a big hat with a plume.

Teyll remember Anna Held and Gibson girls. Teyll hardly

mention the conditions in the actories, children working all dayinstead o going to school. Te socialists and communists, theyre

just talk, theyre just speeches and handbills. Te anarchists

theyre something else, and theyre not talking about a ew more

pennies.

I work or pennies, Hyde said. And right now I just want

to think about a strawberry blondenot so much on the plump

side. But still, you know, with nice high ones, and hips like this

He carved the gure o a woman with both hands. Sometimes

you should concentrate on something else, Leona glass o whis-

key or maybe a girls hips.

Perhaps.

Its not exactly ree love.

Nomore women should practice ree love. Czolgoszseemed baffl ed, embarrassed, but then he blurted, Tere is no

such thing as ree love. Youre talking about a decent woman,

youre talking about marriage. Tats neither ree nor love. Its

just procreation, making a bunch o babies who will grow up and

go to work or youlisten, I come rom a amily o eight, and

there would have been more except that my mother died at orty

when she was giving birth to my sister Victoria. Te amily as a

capitalist unitcreate your own workorce. Tats the only way

to survive.

Ten maybe its better to simply pay or it. Hyde seemed to

be smiling, though it was diffi cult to tell with his ull mustache.

What do you say?

Do youpay or it?Sometimes, Hyde said, and he nodded toward the clapboard

house at the end o the block. Its run by Big Maud, and its cer-

tainly not ree. But its honestat least until all women are like

Emma.



25/26

About the Author

John Smolens has published ve novels and a collection o short

stories. In he was the recipient o a Distinguished Faculty

Award rom Northern Michigan University, where he is a proessor

o English. He and his wie, Reesha, live in Marquette, Michigan.



26/26

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