Beyond this dump there stood a great brickyard, with
smoking chimneys. First they took out the soil
to make bricks, and then they filled it up again with
garbage, which seemed to Jurgis and Ona a felicitous
arrangement, characteristic of an enterprising country
like America. A little way beyond was another
great hole, which they had emptied and not yet filled
up. This held water, and all summer it stood there,
with the near-by soil draining into it, festering
and stewing in the sun; and then, when winter came,
somebody cut the ice on it, and sold it to the people
of the city. This, too, seemed to the newcomers
an economical arrangement; for they did not read the
newspapers, and their heads were not full of troublesome
thoughts about “germs.”
They stood there while the sun went down upon this
scene, and the sky in the west turned blood-red, and
the tops of the houses shone like fire. Jurgis
and Ona were not thinking of the sunset, however—their
backs were turned to it, and all their thoughts were
of Packingtown, which they could see so plainly in
the distance. The line of the buildings stood
clear-cut and black against the sky; here and there
out of the mass rose the great chimneys, with the
river of smoke streaming away to the end of the world.
It was a study in colors now, this smoke; in the sunset
light it was black and brown and gray and purple.
All the sordid suggestions of the place were gone—in
the twilight it was a vision of power. To the
two who stood watching while the darkness swallowed
it up, it seemed a dream of wonder, with its talc
of human energy, of things being done, of employment
for thousands upon thousands of men, of opportunity
and freedom, of life and love and joy. When they
came away, arm in arm, Jurgis was saying, “Tomorrow
I shall go there and get a job!”
Chapter 3
In his capacity as delicatessen vender, Jokubas Szedvilas
had many acquaintances. Among these was one of
the special policemen employed by Durham, whose duty
it frequently was to pick out men for employment.
Jokubas had never tried it, but he expressed a certainty
that he could get some of his friends a job through
this man. It was agreed, after consultation,
that he should make the effort with old Antanas and
with Jonas. Jurgis was confident of his ability
to get work for himself, unassisted by any one.
As we have said before, he was not mistaken in this.
He had gone to Brown’s and stood there not more
than half an hour before one of the bosses noticed
his form towering above the rest, and signaled to
him. The colloquy which followed was brief and
to the point:
“Speak English?”
“No; Lit-uanian.” (Jurgis had studied
this word carefully.)
“Job?”
“Je.” (A nod.)
“Worked here before?”
“No ’stand.”
(Signals and gesticulations on the part of the boss.
Vigorous shakes of the head by Jurgis.)
