Captain Eddie Rickenbacker, president of Eastern Air Lines, said in a press conference called by the Air Transport Association that Newark was “a preferred airport” to pilots under any weather conditions. He said in most pilots’ opinion “it is the best situated, the best equipped and the safest airport in the entire country.” Ten pilots representing five airlines confirmed the statement. They said their personal choice in bad weather would always be Newark. But such talk had little effect on the people of Elizabeth. Indignation, which had run in angry undercurrents through the city, boiled to the surface.
Now the community is pulling together. The Red Cross is asking for blood donations for those injured on the ground, and for food and clothing for the displaced. Volunteers are needed to provide temporary housing. “It’s time to take action,” says Richard F. Green, Red Cross disaster director. “This could have happened to any of us.”
16
Daisy
Christina told Daisy about Polina, the young mother who worked in the kitchen at Janet Memorial, who’d lost everything when the plane smashed into her apartment house on Williamson Street. “She has a little boy,” Christina said, showing her a photo of a towheaded three-year-old. “My family can’t take them in. We already have my sister, her husband and their little boy sleeping in the attic room, and my grandparents in my sister’s old bedroom.”
That was more than Christina had ever said about her family. Daisy lived in a small house in Linden with her older sister, Evelyn. They had a spare room as big as a closet. Daisy knew if she asked, Evelyn would say no. So she didn’t ask. She brought Polina and Stash home that night.
Evelyn didn’t make a scene in front of Polina. She waited until Daisy had made up the bed in the spare room, before giving Daisy hell. “You have no right—this is my house as much as yours. How dare you?” Daisy listened to her sister’s whispered outrage, said she understood, then poured herself a drink, went to her room, closed the door, lit up a Camel and picked up a book.
Evelyn came around after a few days, thanks to Stash, who’d taken a liking to her. He chose to sit in her lap after dinner, asking her to read him a story. She began to bring him little surprises when she came home from work. A toy car, then a truck and finally a bus. He said he wanted to live with her forever.
Polina was still learning to speak English but Daisy had no trouble understanding her. The young mother was so grateful to have a roof over her head and a warm, safe place to stay with Stash, she couldn’t do enough to help. “Please, Miss Daisy, I cook you supper tonight.” She shopped for food, paid for it out of her meager salary and scrubbed Daisy’s kitchen and bathroom without ever being asked. On Sundays Polina got herself up like a glamour-puss. Then she and Stash went off to church, taking the bus into Elizabeth from Linden. Daisy admired Polina’s optimism. She’d lost everyone close to her in the war but she was committed to giving Stash the chance she’d never had.
Daisy drove Polina and Stash to Elizabeth every morning. Polina looked much younger without makeup. So lovely, with clear skin, plump arms and a nice bosom. Polina had to be in the kitchen at Janet Memorial at six. She dropped Stash off at the babysitter’s house first. It was an hour earlier than Daisy usually came to work but she didn’t mind. That extra hour gave her the time to catch up on billing and correspondence. If she finished in time she enjoyed relaxing in the waiting room reading magazines, sipping a coffee from Three Brothers, trying to think of a nice young man to introduce to Polina. There was someone who worked in the lab down the hall…
Miri
Miri went through her closet, pulling out shoes that didn’t fit, skirts she hadn’t worn since sixth grade, her old lime-green dress coat. Rusty said the rule for grown-ups was, If you haven’t worn it in five years, you’ll probably never wear it again. For kids it was two years.
Irene didn’t agree. “When you’ve been through two world wars and the Depression you don’t think that way.” Irene saved everything. But even she was putting together a box of clothing.
“I wish I’d saved Estelle’s things,” Ben said.
“It’s not like you sold them,” Irene said. “You donated them to a good cause.”
Miri went to Natalie’s house to help her clean out her closet. Natalie grabbed armloads of clothes, still on their hangers, and threw them onto her bed. “Just give it all away,” she told Corinne, when she came into the room. “Including my cashmere sweaters,” Natalie said, scooping them out of her dresser drawer.
But Corinne hung all the good things back in Natalie’s closet. “You’re overreacting, Nat.”
“I don’t care about any of it,” Natalie said, flopping down on her bed.