From what Ive read and the accounts Ive heard of those that lived at the time in Midland, overt racism was a pastime that the everyday Depression-Era steelworker couldnt afford. Especially if he lived cheek-by-jowl in a company house next to someone from another culture, or they worked shoulder to shoulder in the mill. One pastime it seems most of them DID indulge in was the numbers game, and that in itself may have been a great equalizer. The following is excerpted from a chapter that paints such a picture. Donata Szpatowicz stood on her porch and with a pencil scribbled a note against the flaking paint of a wooden column. “Mr. Szpatowicz’s forehead took six stitches from a hunky’s shovel yesterday,” she said as she wrote. “So yesterday was the twenty-fourth? I’m playin’ ten cents on six twenty-four.” Maria di Mercurio wrote the numbers on a paper. “No malice intended, I hope,” said Maria. “No, Mimi, Bodrogi didn’t mean to hit him, I’m sure,” Donata said. “But that melon of Janek’s is always getting in the way of something.” Mimi laughed. “Yeah, he’s got a head on him alright,” she said. “Dangerous business, that mill. Have you ever seen them swing those shovels on the open hearth?” “No, have you?” “Me neither. Say, Mimi, I always been wanting to ask. What parta Italy your folks from?” “Who knows? Who cares?” said Mimi. “Mr. Katz says I’m a Schwartze, but I don’t know where in hell that is. Probably a little island off the toe of the boot or something. Sounds exotic, don’t it.” “The man is a world traveler and very sophisticated, so he should know,” the Polish housewife said, pulling a few coins from her purse. “All I can say is I seen some dark Eye-talians, but you’re the darkest.” She handed her paper and coins to the black woman. “Thank you, Donata,” Mimi said. “I think.” “Hey, Mimi. I got one for you.” “Okay, but hurry it up. I gotta get back with all these slips or my ass is grass.” “All right all right,” Donata said. “So one day some woman asks the numbers runner, ‘What’s the numbah?’ and he says, ‘715,’ and she says, ‘Mary Jesus and Joseph, I played 714!’ The next day she hurries over and asks him, ‘What’s the numbah?’ and he says, ‘229.’ She says to him, “Jesus Christ I played 230!’ So this goes on all week, and finally he’s had it up to here with this broad and so on Friday he sees her comin’ see, and when she asks, ‘What’s the numbah?’ he looks at her and says, ‘ABC.’ ‘Dammit all to hell,’ she yells, ‘I played DEF!’” Mimi barely smiled and looked around. “Yeah, I don’t get it,” she said. “What is that?” “Aw just a stupid joke, Mimi, never mind,” Donata said and walked back in the house. “See ya tomorrow.”
Posted on: Sun, 14 Sep 2014 23:52:31 +0000
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