Speaker 1: An old time Christmas. When the holidays came round, the
thoughts of Eliza Anne Lewis always turned to the good
times that she used to have at home, when, following
the precedent of Antebellum days, Christmas lasted all the week
and good cheer held sway. She remembered with regret the
gifts that were given, the songs that were sung to,
the tinkling of the banjo, and the dances with which
they beguiled. The night hours, and the eating. Could she
forget it, the great turkey with the fat literally bursting
from him, the yellow yam melting into deliciousness in the mouth,
or at some more fortunate season, even the juicy possum
grinning in brown and greasy death from the great platter.
In the ten years she had lived in New York,
she had known no such feast day. Food was strangely
dear in the matreropolis, and then there was always the
weekly rental of the poor room to be paid. But
she had kept the memory of the old times green
in her heart, and ever turned to it with the
fondness of one for something irretrievably lost. That is how
Jimmy came to know about it. Jimmy was thirteen and
small for his age, and he could not remember any
such times as his mother told him about, although he
said with great pride to his partner and rival, Blinkie
Scott Cheese, blink you ought to hear my old lady
talk about the days they had down where we come
from at Christmas. New York ain't in it with them,
you can just bet. And Blinky, who was a New
Yorker cleaned through with a New Yorker's contempt for anything
outside of the city, had promptly replied with a downward
spreading of his right hand. Ah, forget it. Jimmy felt
a little crestfallen for a minute, but he lifted himself
in his own estimation by threatening to do Blinky and
the cloud rolled by. Eliza Anne knew that Jimmy couldn't
ever understand what she meant by an old time Christmas
unless she could show him by some faint approach to
its merrymaking. And it had been the dream of her
life to do this, but every year she had failed
until now she was a little ahead. Her plan was
too good to keep, and when Jimmy went out that
Christmas Eve morning to sell his papers. She had disclosed
it to him, and bade him hurry home as soon
as he was done, for they were to have a
real old time Christmas. Jimmy exhibited as much pleasure as
he deemed consistent with his dignity, and promised to be
back earth to add his earnings to the fund for celebration.
When he was gone, Liza Ann counted over her savings
lovingly and dreamed of what she could buy her boy
and what she would have for dinner the next day.
Then a voice, a colored man's voice she knew, floated
up to her. Someone in the alley below her window
was singing the old folks at home, all up and
down the whole creation. Sadly I roam still longing for
the old plantation, Anne, for the old folks at home.
She leaned out of the window and listened, And when
the song had ceased and she drew her head in again,
there were tears in her eyes, the tears of memory
and longing, But she crushed them away and laughed tremendously
to herself as she said, what a regular old fool,
I'm a giddin' bee. Then she went out into the
cold snow covered streets, for she had work to do
that day that would add a mite to her little
Christmas store. Down in the street, Jimmy was calling out
the morning papers and racing with Blinky Scott for prospective customers.
These were only transients, of course, for each had his
regular buyers, whose preferences were scrupulously respected by both in
agreement with a strange, silent compact. The electric cars when
clanging to and fro. The streets were full of shoppers
with bundles and bunches of holly, and all the sights
and sounds were pregnant with the message of the joyous time.
People were full of the holiday's spirit. The papers were
going fast, and the little colored boy's pockets were filled
with the desired coins. It would have been all right
with Jimmy if the policeman hadn't come up on him
just as he was about to toss the bones, and
when Blinky Scot had him faded to the amount of
five hard earned pennies. Well, they were trying to suppress
youthful gambling in New York, and the officer had to
do his duty. The others scuttled away, but Jimmy was
so absorbed in the game that he didn't see the
cop until he was right above him, so he was pinched.
He blubbered a little and wiped his grimy face with
his grimier sleeve until it was one long brown smear.
You know, this was Jimmy's first time. The big blue
coat looked a little bit ashamed as he marched him
down the street, followed at a distance by a few
hooting boys. Some of the holiday shoppers turned to look
at them as they passed and murmured, poor little chap,
I wonder what he's been up to now. Others said sarcastically,
it seems strange that Copper didn't call for help. A
few of his brother officers grinned at him as he passed,
and he blushed. But the dignity of the law must
be upheld, and the crime of gambling among the newsboys
was a growing evil. Yes, the dignity of the law
must be upheld, and though Jimmy was only a small boy,
it would be well to make an example of him.
So his name and age were put down on the
blotterer and over against them the offense with which he
was charged. Then he was locked up to await trial
The next morning. It's shameful, the bearded sergeant said, how
the kids are carrying on these days? People are feeling
pretty generous, and they'll toss him a nickel or a
dime for the paper and tell them to keep the
change for Christmas and foice thing. You know, the little
beggars are shooting crab sir, pitchin pennies. We've got to
make it an example of some of 'em. Eliza Ann
Lewis was tearing through her work that day to get
home and do her Christmas shopping, and she was singing
as she worked, some such old song as she used
to sing in the good old days back home. She
reached her room late and tired, but happy. Visions of
awakening up time for her and Jimmy were on her mind.
But Jimmy wasn't there. I wonder what that little scamp is,
she said, smiling. I told him to hurry home. I
reckon he's stayin out later with the evening papers so
as to bring home more money. Hour after hour passed
and he did not come, and then she grew alarmed.
At two o'clock in the morning, she could stand it
no longer, and she went over and awakened Blinky Scot,
much to the young gentleman's disgust, who couldn't see why
any woman need make such a fuss about a kid.
He told her laconically that Jimmy was pinched for trowing
to bones. She heard with a sinking heart and went
home to her own room to walk the floor all
night and sob. In the morning, with all her Christmas
savings tied up in a handkerchief, she hurried down to
Jefferson Market court room. There was a full blotder that morning,
and the judge was rushing through it. He wanted to
get home to his Christmas dinner, but he paused long
enough when he got to Jimmy's case to deliver a
brief but stern lecture upon the evil of child gambling
in New York. He said that as it was Christmas Day,
he would like to release the prisoner with a reprimand,
but he thought that this had been done too often,
and that it was high time to make an example
of one of the offenders. Well, it was fine or imprisonment.
Liza Ann struggled up through the crowd of spectators and
her Christmas treasure added to what Jimmie had paid his fine,
and they went out of the court room together. When
they were in the room again, she put the boy
to bed, for there was no fire and no coal
to make one. Then she wrapped herself in a shabby
shawl and sat huddled up over the empty stove down
in the alley. She heard the voice of the day before, singing, Oh, darkies,
how my heart grows weary far from the old folks
at home, And she burst into tears, and of an
old time Christmas