Book One of the New York Saga
In FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH STREET it's 1894 on New York's Lower East Side. Irish cop Tom McGlory and Italian immigrant Vita Caputo fall in love despite their different upbringings. They know their love can survive poverty, hatred, and corruption. Can an Italian sweatshop worker and an Irish cop fall in love on Manhattan’s Lower East Side in 1894?
Vita
is based on my great grandmother, Josephine Calabrese, "Josie Red" who left grade school to become a self-made
businesswoman and politician, wife and mother.
Coming soon on audio from The Wild Rose Press, it's for sale on Amazon for Kindle and paperback.
AN EXCERPT:
As
Vita gathered her soap and towel, Madame Branchard tapped on her door.
"You have a gentleman caller, Vita. A policeman."
"Tom?"
His name lingered on her lips as she repeated it. She dropped her things and
crossed the room.
"No,
hon, not him. Another policeman. Theodore something, I think he said."
No. There can't be anything wrong. "Thanks," she whispered, nudging Madame Branchard aside. She descended
the steps, gripping the banister to support her wobbly legs. Stay calm! she warned herself. But of
course it was no use; staying calm just wasn't her nature.
“Theodore
something” stood before the closed parlor door. He’s a policeman? Tall and hefty, a bold pink shirt peeking out of
a buttoned waistcoat and fitted jacket, he looked way out of place against the
dainty patterned wallpaper.
He
removed his hat. "Miss Caputo." He strained to keep his voice soft as
he held out a piece of paper. “I’m police commissioner Theodore Roosevelt.”
"Yes?"
Her voice shook.
"I
have a summons for you, Miss Caputo." He held it out to her. But she stood
rooted to that spot.
He
stepped closer and she took it from him, unfolding it with icy fingers. Why
would she be served with a summons? Was someone arresting her now for something
she didn't do?
A
shot of anger tore through her at this system, at everything she wanted to
change. She flipped it open and saw the word "Summons" in fancy
script at the top. Her eyes widened with each sentence as she read. “I can’t
believe what I’m seeing.”
I
hereby order Miss Vita Caputo to enter into holy matrimony with Mr. Thomas
McGlory immediately following service of this summons.
HOW FROM HERE TO FOURTEENTH
STREET WAS BORN
New York City’s history
always fascinated me—how it became the most powerful hub in the world from a
sprawling wilderness in exchange for $24 with Native Americans by the Dutch in
1626.
Growing up in Jersey City, I
could see the Statue of Liberty from our living room window if I leaned way
over (luckily I didn’t lean too far over). As a child model, I spent many an
afternoon on job interviews and modeling assignments in the city, and got
hooked on Nedick’s, a fast food chain whose orange drinks were every kid’s
dream. Even better than the vanilla egg creams. We never drove to the city—we
either took the PATH (Port Authority Trans Hudson) train (‘the tube’ in those
days) or the bus through the Lincoln Tunnel to the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
My great grandmother, Josephine Calabrese, “Josie Red” to her friends, because of her abundant head of red hair,
was way ahead of her time. Born in 1895 (but it could’ve been sooner, as she
was known to lie about her age), she left grade school, became a successful
businesswoman and a Jersey City committewoman, as well as a wife and mother of
four. She owned apartment buildings, parking garages, a summer home, did a bit
of Prohibition-era bootlegging, small-time loan-sharking, and paid cash for
everything. When I began outlining From Here to Fourteenth Street, I modeled my
heroine, Vita Caputo, after her. Although the story is set in New York the year
before Grandma was born, I was able to bring Vita to life by calling on the
family legends and stories, all word of mouth, for she never kept a journal.
Vita’s hero Tom McGlory isn’t
based on any real person, but I did a lot of reading about Metropolitan
Policemen and made sure he was the complete opposite! He’s trustworthy and
would never take a bribe or graft. I always liked the name McGlory—then, years
after the book first came out, I remembered that was the name of my first car
mechanic—Ronnie McGlory.
I completed the book in 1995,
and my then-publisher, Domhan Books, published it under the title I Love You
Because. The Wild Rose Press picked it up after I gave it many revisions and
overhauls. My editor Nan Swanson did a fabulous job making the prose sparkle.
CHANGING THE TITLE
When I proposed the story to
Wild Rose, I wanted to change the title, since it went through so many revisions.
I wanted to express Vita’s desire to escape the Lower East Side and move
farther uptown. I considered Crossing 14th Street, but it sounded
too much like Crossing Delancey. After a few more hits and misses, the title
hit me—as all really fitting titles do.
A BIT OF BACKGROUND—WHAT WAS
1894 NEW YORK CITY LIKE?
The
Metropolitan Police was a hellhole of corruption, and nearly every cop, from
the greenest rookie to the Chief himself, was a dynamic part of what made the
wheels of this great machine called New York turn.
The
department was in cahoots with the politicians, all the way up to the mayor's
office. Whoever wasn't connected enough to become a politician became a cop in
this city. They were paid off in pocket-bulging wads of cash to look the other
way when it came to building codes, gambling, prostitution, every element it
took to keep this machine gleaming and efficient. They oiled the machine and
kept it running with split-second precision. The ordinary hardworking,
slave-wage earning citizen didn't have a chance around here. Tom McGlory and
his father were two of a kind, and two of a sprinkling of cops who were cops
for the right reasons. They left him alone because he was a very private
person; he didn't have any close friends, he confided in no one. He could've
made a pocket full of rocks as a stoolie, more than he could by jumping in the
fire with the rest of them, but he couldn't enjoy spending it if he'd made it
that way. They knew it and grudgingly respected him for it. He was here for one
reason--his family was here. If they went, he went. As long as they needed him,
here he was. Da would stop grieving for his wife when he stopped breathing.
Since Tom knew he was the greatest gift she gave Da, he would never let his
father down.
No comments:
Post a Comment