That evening, the men read their papers out loud, each one trying to top each other’s news. Zoltan was so excited, he sneezed incessantly—but that didn’t stop him. “Listen—here they say, ‘God bless Henry Ford of the Ford Motor Company …’”
“My paper calls him one of ‘God’s noblemen,’” Carl announced.
Rudy chuckled, “Notice how the company news has knocked the marriage of President Wilson’s daughter off the front pages?”
“Hey—even the latest on Ty Cobb,” Johann added.
Zoltan, knowing that he was about to be rich, had afforded himself the luxury of out-of-town newspapers, cleared his throat. “Here’s a good one out of Cleveland: the company’s announcement ‘shot like a blinding rocket through the dark clouds of the present industrial depression.’ How’s that for lyrical prose!”
Fritz looked up.
“I got a lulu!! Listen to this one—‘When you see his modest little car running by, take your hat off!’ If this goes on, we better pump up production fast!”
“Anybody got comments from other manufacturers?” Stan asked.
“I have,” Jimmy called out. “Pittsburgh Plate Glass is quoted as saying that if other employers follow Ford’s lead, it will mean the ruin of all business in this country. That Ford himself will find he cannot afford to pay five dollars a day.”
“Just jealous. Never the Boss promises what he can’t deliver.”
“True.” For once, Stan had to agree with Peter. John, his paper still folded on his lap, hands behind his head, legs stretched out before him, his often overzealous adulation of Henry Ford now fully vindicated, was trying his best not to gloat. Catching his eye, Jane acknowledged his right to do so, received an answering smile as reward for her perceptiveness. All in all, it was an evening long remembered for the pride they felt in being part of the Ford Motor Company and its magnanimous founder.
Far into the night, they talked—exchanging each other’s papers, reading the praises heaped upon their Boss until Hannah had to remind them it was time for bed. Sighing their reluctance to put an end to this special day, they knocked out their pipes, folded their newspapers, leaving them on their chairs to be reread in the morning and, saying goodnight, began to leave the parlor. Zoltan topped off the evening when, on his way out, he turned, walked back to Fritz and, in a voice filled with respect tinged with awe, exclaimed, “Fritz! This feeling—this one was a real humdinger!”
John was still laughing as he closed the door to their room.
“That Zoltan—I’m going to miss him.” He began to undress.
“Why? Is he leaving?” Jane unpinned her hair.
“Not that I know of, but we will be.” He hung up his pants, letting the suspenders dangle.
“We? Are we leaving?”
Hearing the tremor in her voice, John turned to look at her.
“Not right away. The profit sharing will take time to get set in place but then, it will be time. I never intended to remain here. A boardinghouse is not a place to raise a family.” Getting into bed, he turned on his side, murmured, “Buonanotte, Ninnie,” and fell asleep.
Jane, wide-eyed, imagined a time without Hannah and felt quite lost.
By the introduction of the moving assembly line into the industrial workplace, now capped by the sweeping wage structure of his company, its further announcement that a third shift would be necessary in order to turn out his only product to satisfy demand, Henry Ford’s personal fame began to surpass even that of his acclaimed automobile. Within days, Detroit and its Ford Motor Company became the Mecca of hungry men—the Highland Park plant their goal. Statistically, no company, no matter how vast or willing, could accommodate these hordes of men looking for work in this Five-Dollar-Day Utopia. But hunger never fostered reason—and so they came. From New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Illinois, within Michigan, Wisconsin, the border states, out of the deep South, many paying the fare with their last dollar, most riding the rails. An invasion of desperate men was underway.
“Fritz?! Carl?!” Slamming the front door behind him, John hurried into the kitchen. “Hannah! Where the hell is Fritz?”
“In de basement, fixing. What’s wrong? Why you home? What’s …”
Not stopping to answer, John ran back into the hall, bellowing. “Fritz! Come up! Where’s Carl? Is Zoltan here?”
“Where’s the fire?” Fritz appeared from below.
“My God, you’ve got to see it! You gotta see it to believe it! Hurry, put your coat on and come. We’ve got to get the others—Hannah—who’s home?”
“Rudy, Stan.” Hannah never wasted words when an emergency seemed to be in progress, turned to Jane. “You see Zoltan?”
“He was in his room.”
“Ninnie—get him down here.” Jane hesitated. “Move!”
“John, if I find any of the others you …”
“Anybody! Tell them to get down here—NOW!”
Jane ran. Within minutes the boarders were assembled in the hall, John throwing their overcoats at them.
“Don’t ask questions! Put them on. It’s freezing out there—and follow me to the plant. You got to see this!”
The door slammed behind them—they were gone. Hannah snapped into action.
“Okay, we go make coffee. Big pot—get ready for what’s coming, maybe trouble.”
Jane followed her into the kitchen.
“What trouble?”
“Who knows! But dat excited no man gets witout a big reason. So we prepare, den wait till we get to know what de big fuss is. Maybe we better bring de big pot mit my chicken soup also in case dis is serious.”
Waiting, neither concentrating on what they were actually doing, Jane darned a sock that didn’t need to be, Hannah tidied what was tidy. Time dragged. They began preparing for the evening meal, unsure if it would be eaten.
Faces flushed, eyes tearing from the cold, inner excitement making their words tumble over each other, still in their hats and coats, the boarders strode into the kitchen crowding the doorway.
“Hannahchen,” his voice hoarse, Fritz pulled off his cap, twisting it in his hands. “What I have seen today, never never will I forget!”
“My God! You should see it! It …” Rudy searched for words.
Zoltan collapsed onto a kitchen chair, utterly speechless.
“As far as the eye could see, men—thousands of men!” Jimmy, hand shaking, swept the air.
“The whole length of Manchester, around and down Woodward, jam-packed with men waiting for the hiring to begin. An unbelievable sight!” Carl looked at John. “You know when they got there?”
“I saw them at dawn, but they started arriving long before that.”
Johann shook his head in disbelief.
Pulling off his gloves, Stan asked, “Got any idea how many, John?”
“One of the reporters said fifteen thousand.”
“Gott im Himmel!” Hannah gasped, looking at Fritz.
“Ja, looked like could be that many. Fifteen thousand! My God! What’s going to happen? We can’t use that many new men! But what a sight! Never, if I live to be a hundred, will I ever forget. There are more people outside our plant than in the whole village I come from!”
“Mine, too!” Peter agreed.