Here is an excerpt from Chapter One.

 

Benny chose to look for a yankee of the second category – a prosperous young businessman with no dependents in tow for whom he must demonstrate pack superiority. Dress nicely, greet them deferentially and help them with their bags and they are likely to be civil and give you a nickel for handling one little suitcase. Just as he had hoped, a well dressed man came out of the station. He wore a dark brown tweed suit with a red bow tie and a tightly fitting bowler hat. A perfectly trimmed triangular beard clung to his chin, while his upper lip was adorned with a neat mustache. He struggled with an odd sized suitcase. It was larger than an overnight bag that a person would carry on the train for some personal essentials and a change of clothes. It looked like a hamper, was about half the size of a steamer trunk, and formed of fabric stretched over a frame, rather than built sturdily of wood. He carried it awkwardly as the latches were near giving way, and the fabric was beginning to rip up one side of it.

“Help you with that bag, sir?” He said as he reached to take the man’s luggage. He intentionally thickened his Irish brogue, as he knew that the northern folks liked it. “And what hotel would be your choice today, sir?”

“I don’t need any help.” The man said. His unfriendly manner and his struggle with the suitcase brought Benny to regret that he picked this particular traveler, as he seemed entirely too unpleasant to part with a nickel or a dime. “But you might direct me to a modestly priced hotel,” the man said. Just then, the suitcase fell apart and spilled the man’s belongings all across the wooden sidewalk. “Oh for God’s sakes, now look what you’ve done, you idiot.” The man shouted. Benny dropped to his knees and started gathering the items before they got trampled over by the sea of people rushing past to get their fist glimpse of paradise in winter.

“I am terribly sorry, sir.” Benny had barely touched the man’s suitcase, but it seemed he was going to get the blame anyway, so he might as well clean it up and hope for a good tip.

“As you should be. Coming up here grabbing at a man’s stuff and throwing it all over the sidewalk. What kind of a place is this?” The man raised his voice and people started to slow down and stare.

As Benny was piling the stuff back into the suitcase, his eyes were drawn to what was unmistakably the scroll of a violin, peeking out from amongst the scattered clothing which formerly had been neatly packed in the now useless suitcase. As Benny reached for it, the man grabbed it and examined it quickly, but thoroughly. Satisfied that no damage had occurred, he re-wrapped it in a bundle of quilted cloth material that he had pulled from the pile.

Benny was stuffing the man’s belongings back into the tattered grip and said, “That’s no way to carry a fiddle, you know,” said Benny.

“Yes, well, it’s the only way I have of carrying it. So I’ll just thank you to mind your own business. You‘ve done enough damage as it is.” The man squatted and grabbed the suitcase away from Benny who was still on his knees. He tried to make the violin fit back into the suitcase but there was no room now because of the damaged condition of the suitcase and the willy-nilly way everything had gone back in.

“Well, it needs a stoutly built wood case or it will soon be in splinters.”

“Oh, and since you are such an expert about violins and what is good for them, here you are carrying bags at the train station.” snapped the man. He would have had no way of knowing it, but Benny indeed knew a lot about the instrument. Being both a talented fiddler and a skilled enough carpenter, making a little wooden box to fit the violin would be no challenge at all.

“All I’m saying is I could build you such a case. One you’d be proud to carry and it would do the fiddle good, too.”

The traveler was looking around nervously, exasperated that he could not fit the violin back into the suitcase. He regained his composure, smiled at Benny and said, “Well, now. That offer intrigues me. What is your name?”

“Brendan Tiernan sir. My friends call me Benny.”

“My name is Sullivan. You can call me Sully.” The man seemed embarrassed and almost apologetic about his earlier behavior. “How much would building this case cost?”

“Two dollars for the wood and the latches, two dollars for my labors.  I can have it for you in three or four days.”

“Four dollars altogether? I could probably do better at a pawn shop.”

“Suit yourself. They’re all owned by the Jews. I don’t think you could find anything among them for four dollars. But nevertheless I’ll do it for three.”

“Now you’re talking. So you can build a good stout one for three dollars?”

“Yes, indeed. I’ve built a many of ‘em, sir.” Benny told him.

“As much as this sounds like a great idea, how do I know that you won’t go right up the street and spend my money on whisky instead of building me a violin case?”

“Well, you don’t, sir, except that I can tell you I have give up drinking and pledged meself to a life of sobriety.” he announced proudly. “All I can do is promise that if you gave me a dollar up front, and let me take the measurements I need of the instrument, by Tuesday or Wednesday of next week, I will deliver to your hotel a fine wooden violin case.”

“I’ll tell you what, Benny. You have convinced me that you are a trustworthy man. Here is two dollars. Take the violin with you now, and make me a case as you describe. You tell me where you live and I will come by at the appointed time with the other dollar. I’ll bring a bottle of whisky, and if I like the case that will be your bonus. If you promise to take good care of the instrument, I’ll give you another dollar bonus.”

“Now, sir, you have made a deal you’ll not regret. But no need for any whisky. As I said I give that up.”

Benny grabbed a scrap of paper from among the man’s belongings and scribbled his address on it. “This is actually a paint supply store, but round back of the building is a staircase that goes up to three rooms. I rent the last one you’ll come to.”

“Thank you, Benny. And could you recommend a good hotel? I don’t necessarily want to pay top dollar for a lot of coddling, but I would like a nice clean place.”

“Oh, Sully. To come this far south during winter without having made some arrangements is the mark of a gambling man for sure. But I think you could find room at the Anchor South Hotel. A bit starker than some of the others, but well kept.”

“Thanks, Benny. Now I’ll come round early next week. You run along and get to work, and I’ll get a cart to the hotel.”

“The Anchor doesn’t run a cart, but it’s an easy walk from here. Just two blocks down Bay Street here and it’s on the left.” Benny shouted as he turned to leave.

Benny went off down the sidewalk carrying the man’s violin, trying to keep it wrapped in remnants of the quilted cloth material in which it had been packed. He had two dollars in his pocket and the potential to earn two more. It brought back the memories of earning a dollar and fifty cents a day as a carpenter. The money was good, and the work was not terrible. It was showing up every day that was his downfall. And there always seemed to be a fiddle involved when he stopped showing up.

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