“Prohibition’s Mr. Big,” had officially been slain the night before. No wonder the chief had come in early.
In fact, his rejection of her pitch might largely have been a matter of poor timing. Perhaps she could revisit the proposal on a better day.
Oh, whom was she fooling? Approach him again, and she would receive the same answer. Push harder, and she would be lucky to maintain her current job.
Across the room, Ellis was busy speaking to Mr. Baylor in animated fashion, surely about another feature in the works. While the achievement of his first one had emboldened her with inspiration, it now caused her a sharp twist of envy.
Just then, Ellis glanced in her direction. Lily summoned her standard composure and continued on her way. After all, she had important tasks to see to. Like bringing warm coffee to her boss.
Chapter 9
No one could have predicted how the article would spread. It was like a brush fire leaping from one paper to the next. First to Jersey, then Maryland, Rhode Island, and Illinois. Down to Texas, as far west as Wyoming. The dailies that had rerun Ellis’s feature currently totaled nine. Ten if he included the original in the Examiner.
It was darkly intriguing, in a way. The sight of strangers in dire straits had become so commonplace that they were as good as invisible to most. But shine a spotlight on members of a single family—a pair of cute kids huddled together, a desperate mother shielding her face—and they became human. Folks who deserved compassion.
To be fair, Ellis had never intended to submit the picture of Geraldine. He hadn’t realized Mr. Baylor had presented it to the chief until learning it was approved. Even now, well into October, the portrayal of the family still left Ellis unsettled.
In truth, everything about that photo did. The more compliments and success it garnered, the more deceptive he felt. So much had happened without planning and in such a short span. It was just two months ago when he’d managed to sell his big pitch to the chief.
Sometimes he wondered what else he’d sold on that Monday. His principles? His integrity?
At least readers’ responses helped combat the guilt that gnawed at him. Kind letters continued to stream in, along with donations. Already he’d made three trips to the Dillards’, leaving boxes of gifts on their porch late at night. He’d become a reverse thief, avoiding the awkwardness of directly handing them off, of having to explain how greatly the article’s reach had widened. While the attention would thrill Ruby—maybe her brother too—clearly their mother would feel otherwise.
In any case, all Ellis could do was move forward. So far, it was working out reasonably well, both in pay and opportunity. For his last two pieces, he’d featured Siamese twins born in Philly who had defied medical odds, then a local actor once known from silent films, now frail and living in a shantytown dubbed Hooverville.
Such displays of a common humanity struck a note with readers. But it was Ellis’s upcoming feature that made him particularly proud. The idea of highlighting coal miners in Pittston had come to him a week ago. As he rode a streetcar, the sight of a shoe shiner, pint-size and cheeks smeared with polish, jogged a memory.
Ellis had been about the same age, seven or eight, when he visited a mine near his childhood hometown of Hazelton. It marked one of the rare occasions when his father was stuck dragging him to work. As a machinery supervisor for the Huss Coal Company, his father was conferring with a drill operator when Ellis stumbled upon a pack of young boys eating lunch out of pails. From cap to boots, the kids were so dusted from coal that the whites of their eyes almost glowed.
His father’s deep voice had shot from behind. Gruff as a roar, it had made Ellis literally jump. I told you, stay in the truck. The man was normally so stoic; it was the first time Ellis became truly aware of his father’s solid, towering form.
Together they’d marched back to the truck, where his father took hold of the steering wheel. His hands shook with such anger that a belt whupping at home seemed a surety, punishment for wandering off. But the longer they drove, the calmer his father became. Finally, he said to Ellis: Those mines are no place to fool around. He looked as if he’d say more. Instead, he fell into the usual silence that accompanied