A Hell for Singles
June 30, 1917.
It happened to be a Saturday.
After finishing work that afternoon, I brought the family down to the East River pier on Manhattan’s east side and put us aboard a steamship.
One-way fares for all of us came to ninety cents.
It was more than twice the streetcar, but we took the ferry to save time as well. Thanks to that, Roa had the cool sea wind full in her face.
“Little brother! Higher, higher!”
“What am I, a machine? Keep it up and I’ll throw you in the water.”
“It’s exercise! Even at Coney Island, Liam can’t stop training.”
“You’re hilarious.”
Mother and I stood to the side, chewing Cracker Jack—popcorn coated in candy and caramel and mixed with peanuts—and looking out over the water.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw the ocean from a boat. The money stings a little, but it’s nice.”
“Aren’t you sick of ships by now?”
“I used to be. Especially at the start—I was terrified. And I had no idea what would happen once we arrived.”
Mother had been twelve when she fled Ireland during the potato famine and boarded a ship for America, half-starved. Like so many others, my grandparents had decided to emigrate, six children in tow.
“From the moment Ellis Island came into view until we cleared immigrant inspection, my parents never smiled once.”
North of the Statue of Liberty sat the small island that served as the gateway for immigrants—Ellis Island. Every newcomer landing in New York passed through it before scattering across the country in search of work. Some people put it this way: Wall Street put up the capital, and Ellis Island supplied the labor.
“Anyway, I swore I’d never set foot on a ship again. Who would’ve guessed I’d end up going to Joseon?”
For missionary work she had crossed the continent by train from New York to San Francisco, then steamed across the Pacific, through Japan, and on to Joseon.
“It was a long journey. Six months.”
“What was it like when you first arrived? It must have been so different from here.”
“The others who went with me all had different reactions. Said it was a poor country, that it looked like an Indian tribe, that sort of thing. I didn’t notice much difference. Ireland or Joseon—both full of poor but simple, good-hearted people.”
Mother had done her mission work in Joseon through the American Methodist Foreign Mission Board. I wanted to hear more, but Ellis Island seemed to have brushed against something she had buried.
“During the inspection, Anna held my hand tight and I held Catherine’s. We were afraid that if we lost each other, we’d never meet again. There were that many people.”
Anna was two years older than Mother, Catherine a year younger. The three sisters had clung to one another and refused to let go. Every time a ship docked, hundreds of immigrants poured out until the place was as chaotic as a marketplace.
“Back then we took such care of each other. Now it’s hard even to see their faces.”
“What about going for Thanksgiving this year?”
The way Koreans gather for the holidays, Americans come together at Thanksgiving. Our family had never once visited my maternal grandparents’ house.
“I’m ashamed to say I still need more courage. Let’s think on it a little longer. But, Kieran.”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t an overnight trip a bit much? Tomorrow alone would have been enough.”
“Money you can earn again. Time you can’t buy back for a million dollars. Roa’s going to grow up before we know it.”
Mother turned a warm smile on me.
“You really do feel like the head of the house now. I always felt guilty, like I was forcing it on you. Knowing that and saying nothing—hoping for it, even—was…”
“I’m greedy. Even if you try to stop me, I’ll do it. So from now on, just think about the family and the company.”
The steamship reached the Coney Island pier in forty minutes.
Crowds moved along the broad stretch of shoreline and sand. Behind them, stalls, restaurants, saloons, and hotels stood packed tight. What caught the eye first were the glittering lights. Roa spotted the place before anyone else.
“Steeplechase Park! There it is! Big brother, let’s goooo!”
The amusement park closest to the pier. Its great Ferris wheel—the park’s emblem—was practically beckoning Roa to hurry up.
I carried her on my shoulders as we walked the beach. Mother and Liam kept twisting their heads around, overwhelmed by the resort they were seeing for the first time.
“We find the room first. Sightseeing later.”
“Roa’s sleeping at Steeplechase!”
“No, you’re not. They close at midnight.”
“Roa closes her door when she sleeps too.”
“……An amusement park isn’t a room.”
“If you lie down, it’s a room!”
Faced with the wisdom of an enlightened sage, everyone shut up. Today, Roa was invincible.
Coney Island had three amusement parks. The one nearest the pier, and the best for a family stay, was Steeplechase. We decided on the Henderson Hotel, a two-minute walk away.
The clerk in the lobby gave our clothes a quick once-over and put on a regretful face.
“I’m sorry, but we only have a few rooms left. And they’re ocean-view, so a bit expensive.”
“How much?”
“Peak season and a holiday—fifteen dollars.”
Mother sucked in a sharp breath. So did Roa. She understood, in her own way, what a two-digit number meant. Expensive. Very.
But I was going to be a rich man.
“Fifteen dollars. It’s nothing.”
“What are you talking about?”
Mother grabbed my arm; Roa tugged my pants. Liam took hold of my coat from behind. Apparently we weren’t at that level yet—or maybe my sense of prices was still off. In the end I gave up and we left.
Fifteen dollars was two weeks’ pay for an ordinary laborer. Expensive, no question, and peak season made it worse. America’s high season ran from Memorial Day on May 30 through the first Sunday of September—Labor Day. A full quarter of the year counted as peak, which seemed a bit much. Resorts jacked their rates by twenty or thirty percent for the summer, so most people came for the day or booked cheap rooms weeks ahead. Show up on a whim like us, and this was what you got.
“We’ll eat, then hit the parks. Ugh. Expensive, expensive. There’s got to be somewhere cheaper.”
“Roa doesn’t think so either.”
“What about near Luna Park?”
Liam had done some research of his own and offered it as an alternative.
“It opened in 1903, five years after Steeplechase. The night lights are supposed to be spectacular—two hundred fifty thousand bulbs.”
“You studying amusement parks at school instead of your books?”
We walked along Surf Avenue. Just as Liam had said, Luna Park came into view a little farther on, glittering with countless electric bulbs. For the era, they were burning electricity like water. It was that lavish.
“That’s what Roa wanted! Luna Park!”
“Already forgotten Steeplechase?”
“Where’s that? Roa came to Coney Island for Luna Park!”
We looked for a room near Luna Park. No easier here. Rooms were scarce. Roa, growing frantic, announced that we could just sleep on the street—she was already prepared—and then:
“Ah! There! Harvard! The place Liam and I should go! We won’t even need to study!”
“……”
“……”
We were walking Surf Avenue when Roa spotted a place called the Harvard Inn. Something about the name felt familiar. Because of Harvard?
I started toward it, then stopped. The ground floor was a saloon—liquor, smoke, and a seedy air that made it no place for a family. Besides, this stretch was where Tanner Smith had invested in a bar. Surf Avenue, where we stood, could fairly be called a pleasure district run by gangs.
We got out of there and finally found a decent lodging.
“Seven dollars. Breakfast is fifty cents for the little lady, seventy-five for everyone else.”
Price wasn’t the issue. Mother wordlessly held out the money with trembling hands. We had no choice.
We left our bags in the room and headed for Luna Park.
“Giddyup! Hyah, hyah!”
“Hold still! You’re going to fall!”
“Horses don’t talk, little brother!”
“Then why am I a horse?”
When we went to buy tickets under the blaze of two hundred fifty thousand bulbs, Liam’s information turned out to have a hole in it.
“Admission separate, rides separate.”
“At Steeplechase the entry fee covers everything. Better to come tomorrow.”
“We’re going in.”
Roa, who had been watching our faces anxiously, nodded hard at me. Best big brother ever.
It was nine in the evening. Countless bulbs lit every attraction. I pointed Roa toward the carousel—she hadn’t blinked once.
“Roa, want to ride that?”
“No. Rides are whatever.”
The look on her face, jaw set, was pure torment.
“Afraid we won’t come back tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Roa’s happy just being here. We have to save money so we can come again tomorrow.”
“Fair enough. But when it’s time to spend, you spend.”
In truth I had spent more on the business than I had earned from it. Everything I spent today was money taken from someone else. But I was sure they would be smiling down from heaven. It was money for Roa.
How could you not?
Liam had no interest in the carousel, so I put only Roa on.
“Wow! Wow! Roa’s going around and around!”
The other children were all shouting and laughing too. Why hadn’t I understood before? That this was what an amusement park was. Just being here lifted your spirits.
We rode the attractions with Roa at the center of everything and had a family photograph taken. Fifty cents for the picture.
“Come back in an hour to pick it up.”
I had expected longer; an hour was quick. We stayed until Luna Park closed. The moment we stepped out, Roa fell asleep as if a switch had been thrown, and I carried her on my back.
We reached the room a little past midnight—twenty after twelve. Time for a little business of my own.
Roa, laid in bed, would not wake until morning. Liam, still wide awake, was searching the room like a detective. Mother hummed under her breath as she filled the tub.
“Just in case—don’t leave the room.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have something to take care of.”
“Shouldn’t you take something with you?”
I gave her a glimpse of the club. She nodded. What mattered wasn’t what I was doing, but what I was carrying.
The second I left the room I pulled my hat low and wrapped a scarf around my face. For New York’s finest resort there were Black people, Hispanics, and Asians about, so I didn’t really need the disguise—but habit dies hard.
The couples I passed in the hall didn’t give me a second look. They had more important things ahead of them than noticing me.
I left the lodging and headed for the place Tanner had told me about. On the way I passed the Harvard Inn. An Italian man about my age standing at the door gave me a long look.
“Hey. Need a girl? This place is hell for singles.”
“Not interested.”
“Money the problem? Then how about testing your luck tonight?”
“Not interested in that either.”
“Chicken. Then get lost.”
All that for simply walking past.
I pushed through the crowded saloons until I reached a pub in a relatively wide alley.
The Brass Lantern Pub
The Brass Lantern was not a large place. But this was a tourist town—every seat filled, customers packed in.
When I tried to go inside, the man at the door blocked me. He pointed into the bar with one finger.
“Can’t you see? No seats.”
“I’m here to see Tanner.”
His eyes narrowed. His hand drifted toward the knife at his belt.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Nox.”
“These days every dog and cat is a Nox. Stay right there until I check.”
I made a point of shifting and swinging my arms. What was he going to do about it?
He vanished with a sour look. When he came back he smacked his lips and pointed upstairs.
“End of the hall. Office.”
I climbed the narrow stairs into a long, tight corridor. Doors lined it close together; from every room came the sound of moaning.
“……”
I knocked.
“Come in.”
I opened the door. Tanner, half sprawled on the sofa, waved a hand.
“You got here faster than I expected.”
“I was worried. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Even if it’s a lie, that feels good.”
A bandage was wrapped around Tanner’s left thigh. The bloodstain had spread fairly wide.
“I tried to dodge. Bullet decided to follow me.”
“We call that a guided missile.”
“Those actually exist?”
“Does that sound real to you?”
I sat on the opposite sofa. Tanner grinned and jerked his chin toward the hallway.
“You heard it on the way up?”
“Heard what?”
“What do you think? Want me to set you up with someone? This place is, for singles…”
“Heaven. But you run prostitution too?”
“There’s a gambling hall downstairs. You’ve got to use the space. Just say the word—anything you want.”
“Nothing in particular. The place is smaller than I expected, though.”
“Coming in hot with the digs, huh?”
Tanner gave a wry smile and went on.
“Getting a foothold in Coney Island isn’t easy. The old gangs have it locked down. No room for outsiders to squeeze in.”
Even so, it was worth investing. Who needed a gold mine? This was the gold mine. One look at the money the visitors threw around and the answer was obvious.
“Anyway, Gavin said you had something to show me?”
“Yeah. There’s a guy nearby who opened a bar around the same time I did.”
The owner was out of the Five Points Gang, operating out of Manhattan’s Lower East Side. He had opened a saloon in Coney Island at roughly the same time as Tanner.
“I want you to go over there.”
“Without a purpose?”
“You’ll find one when you get there. You’re good at making something out of nothing.”
I went looking for the place Tanner had named.
The Harvard Inn.
The Italian who had called me a chicken smirked.
“Found some courage, friend?”