This time, the Market Square was warm, its summer bounty bathed in sunlight. Everywhere bright colors in profusion, the perfume from freshly cut flowers vying with that of ripe berries and citrus. Inside Mr. Hirt’s, nothing had changed, his Aladdin’s cave untroubled by a change of season, except that filigree cones for ice cream replaced gingerbread and bins of tea for drinking iced stood towards the front, where tins of cocoa powder had stood before.
Their shopping done, Hannah took Jane to the promised rendezvous at Sanders Drugstore, made her climb onto a tall stool that, once balanced upon, made Jane feel very precarious, gave her order to a young man with pimples, and began her instruction on the complicated art of drinking through a straw. Jane, never having seen such a device, hoped she wouldn’t choke and make a fool of herself.
“Sip, Ninnie, sip! And if a strawberry get stuck, reverse—blow de udder way!”
The tallest, most overflowing glass she had ever seen was placed before her. After a few timid tries of the straw, she got it right and tasted—ambrosia!
Beaming, Hannah was watching Jane’s reaction to her treat.
“Oh, Hannah! It’s delicious! Just like you said and it really is pink!”
“Now you nearly one hundred percent American. Next time, I show you hot fudge sundae, maybe even special banana split, but dis, mit de soda, dis de best. Next week when we have de big picnic for de birthday party, I introduce to you frankfurter mit all de fixins.”
Jane licked her long soda spoon.
“Birthday? Who’s having a birthday?”
“Dese United States of America, dat’s who!”
“A whole country has a birthday?”
“Sure. Big important day when de King of England was kicked in de pants and dis wonderful country got free forever after! Everybody celebrates dis day, called Glorious. Red, white and blue—brass bands, no one go to work, everybody play—wave flags, have a good time, forget dere worries, eat till dey bust!”
“When, Hannah—when?”
“Next week. First we prepare, den we pack de wash basket wit de goodies, take de baby, all go out to Belle Island. Right in de middle of Lake Saint Clair it is. Missus Henry Ford, she takes her family dere, so smart it is. What do Italians call, when you eat not inside? Your John once tell me.”
“Al fresco?” Jane pronounced it slowly.
“Dat’s it! John tells me, dat means in de fresh, right?” Jane nodded. “So, here, in de park, we spread out de tablecloth, unpack de basket, de potato salad, de deviled eggs, de crispy chicken, summertime huckleberry pies, big treat—all de tings we can have because dis country give us plenty and have grand Old Glory birthday in de American-Fresh!” For Jane, Hannah and Fourth of July picnics became inseparable. A special time not often repeated, yet held on to in memory as something precious, to be treasured.
10
On July 28, the Austro-Hungarian Empire declared war on Serbia. A declaration was one thing, but an actual war seemed too far-fetched as yet. Allies on both sides watched, played their secret political games, and waited.
In Detroit, Henry Ford announced that if his company exceeded the sale of three hundred thousand Model Ts by the first of August of the following year, it would refund each owner a percentage of the purchase price. The first rebate offer in automotive history, this, once again, claimed banner headlines across the country; its impact on the public, reinforcing the opinion it had formed with the Five-Dollar-Day, that Henry Ford’s generosity as well as his business acumen was unique, beyond all conception.
But, ever cautious Fritz was doubtful. “Wait till next year—then we’ll see!”
“Oh, he’ll do it. No doubt in my mind—whatsoever,” declared John.
“You mean we’ll do it,” Fritz corrected.
“We, he, what’s the difference?” John looked surprised.
Zoltan put down his newspaper. “In a way, John’s right, you know. The Ford Company is us—the Ford men …” Leaning back in his chair, he mused, “Three hundred thousand Ts, sold by the summer of 1915 … you think that’s possible, John?”
“For the Universal Car? The most reliable automobile ever built for the lowest price? You want to lay a small bet?”
“What are the new price cuts for this year’s production?”
“The retail tag for the Model T Runabout is four hundred dollars. For the Touring, four hundred and ninety, and the Town Car is down to six hundred and fifty dollars.”
“My God, that’s a sixty-dollar reduction on each!”
“It just proves what a moving assembly system can accomplish.” Fritz lit his pipe. “If we can deliver and the dealers do it, I still think this new scheme of Ford’s will cost him a fortune!”
“No, he’ll make a fortune! And, such publicity is beyond price!” John blew a spiral of perfect smoke rings.
“Yes, it’s something all right.” Zoltan folded his paper. “A man buys himself an automobile worth much more than he has to pay for it—and then gets a repayment for doing so? You’re right, John, that is a terrific idea!”
As war clouds gathered across Europe and countries mobilized, President Wilson proclaimed the United States a neutral nation with no affiliations, cautioned the country to be impartial in thought as well as in action, and, for outings at his summer home, acquired his own Tin Lizzie.
Rumpelstiltskin returned quite exhausted, complaining that if John’s patron saint didn’t begin putting automatic starters into his motorcars as standard equipment, he would undoubtedly succumb to ruptures of various internal organs. Hannah fussed over her Ebbely, made him chicken soup, whipped a raw egg into a glass of hoarded port, made him drink it down, then tried to bundle him off to bed.
“But, my dear lady, how can you be so cruel! Order me to slumber before I have had a chance to see our baby still residing here? Never! Just a tiny peek is all, I swear, then—and only then—shall I obey, welcome soft oblivion between your deliciously lavender scented sheets!”
“Ah, my Ebbely! De house was getting so empty. Now you back, much better de feeling is.”
The little man kissed her hand, wished everyone peaceful rest, scurried upstairs for his peek at the only member of the household smaller than he.