To Slip the Surly Bonds

Winter, 1883

When Nahum arrived at the factory the next day, he once again threaded his way through the noise and chaos of the factory floor and went straight up to his office, which he now knew to be on the on the opposite side of the hallway from Toby’s small office and from three down from Simeon’s. Toby’s office was more like an alcove. Nahum had peeked a quick look at the space before leaving the previous night. The young man’s office had a small window overlooking the factory floor and barely enough room for a small roll-top desk, a chair and a stove. A clock had ticked quietly on the wall above the desk. The door opened as Nahum passed by and Toby emerged.

“Good morning, Mr. Goddard.”

Nahum nodded a greeting at the younger man, then removed his hat and coat. “Good morning, Toby.” He noticed several pieces of paper in Toby’s hand. “Is that the draft of the letter for the investors?”

Toby nodded. “Yes, Mr. Goddard.”

Nahum held out his hand. “May I see it?” he asked. Toby handed it to him and Nahum quickly read through the pages before handing them back to Toby.

“This appears to be quite acceptable. I’d like a copy of this right away, and a list of our investors’ names and their contact information right away.”

Toby nodded. “I have taken the liberty of leaving the list of the company’s investors on your desk,” he said, “well, half the list, my uncle has the other half. I believe he has already mailed a number of letters.”

Nahum nodded, inwardly noting the younger man’s initiative. “When did he do that?”

“First thing this morning. He dashed off several letters immediately and went out to mail them himself not long afterward.”

“Very well,” he said. “I’d like a copy of that letter right away.”

“Right away, sir.”

Nahum nodded again and walked across the hall to the office Simeon had set aside for him. He opened the door and went inside. The room was larger than Toby’s cramped little office, but slightly smaller than Simeon’s. Like Simeon’s office, the wall opposite the door was composed of windows, which overlooked the factory floor. Nahum hung his hat and coat on the hat stand by the door and sat behind the large oak desk, which backed onto the wall of windows overlooking the factory.

The letters and telegrams Simeon and Toby had left for him were strewn across the blotter that covered most of the desk’s surface. Nahum sifted through them. Most were from potential clients asking for demonstrations of Nahum’s cutting machine and cost estimates of installation. Nahum fished in his pocket for his pencil and notebook and began jotting down their names and other necessary details. When he finished he to the list of investors that Toby had left on his desk. Nahum paused and read through the list, again noting of all the company’s investors and the amounts they had invested in the company.

There was a knock on the door.

Toby entered. He was carrying several sheets of letter paper in his hand.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Mr. Goddard.”

Nahum shook his head. “No, please come in.”

Toby stepped into Nahum’s office, shutting the door behind him. “I have the letter that you asked for.”

Nahum stretched out a hand. Toby crossed the room in a couple of strides and handed the pages to Nahum, who took them from the younger man. His eyes shifted briefly from Toby to the quietly ticking clock on the wall. He estimated that it had been at most fifteen minutes since he had earlier spoken to Toby in the hall outside his office. That was fast, he thought, he really is a go getter. He quickly rifled through the pages.

Toby looked at Nahum expectantly, and Nahum suddenly realized that he was still standing there. “Thank you Toby. This looks most satisfactory.”

Toby, nodded and shut the door behind him.

Nahum spent the rest of the morning writing letters and reviewing the company’s books. He sent Toby out several times to send or receive telegrams. When he wasn’t busy writing correspondence, Nahum was closeted with Chester, going over the company’s books, trying to understand the company’s financial situation and marshalling all the arguments necessary for a second bank loan should one become necessary. He spent the afternoon closeted with Simeon, Elias and a man named Horace Tabor. Horace Tabor was an almost cadaverously thin man with angular features and a prominent Adam’s apple. Horace had been responsible for laying out the factory floor when Simeon and Nahum had bought the building the previous year. Simeon had sent him a telegram following the consultation they had had the day before. Simeon, Nahum and Elias showed Horace the changes they wanted to make and in return, Horace made some suggestions of his own. By the time they finished their discussion, it was nearly five PM and they decided to break for the day and go home.

As Nahum rode the streetcar home, he was quietly pleased. Although the company was not yet producing cutting machines in large quantities, and wouldn’t be for some time, they seemed to be on the right trajectory. Horace and Elias had both estimated that the company would not be able to start producing machines at the desired rate for at least another month or two. The workmen who were to do the work were coming next week. Nahum got off the street car and at the end of Forest Street and walked down the block toward the large red-brick townhouse. The biting cold of the day before had abated and it was warmer out, despite the setting sun which cast long shadows. The snow had been cleared from the sidewalk. Patches of ice caught the light of the street lamps and glowed in the light of the setting sun.

The foyer of the house in Roxbury was large and panelled in oak. Nahum hung his hat and coat on the hook by the door. A slender young woman came out of the drawing room, carrying Robert in her arms. She looked slightly startled at the sight of Nahum and turned to look back from where she had come. A second or two later Fannie and Madame Goddard followed her into the front hall.

“Oh, Nahum,” said Fannie, “there you are! We were getting worried that something had happened to you.”

Nahum shook his head. “No, everything is fine. Just a long day at the office.” He gestured to the young woman holding his son. “But what’s all this?”

The young woman performed an awkward curtsy. “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said, “but my name is Muriel. I’ve been hired on as a wet nurse.” She nodded to Robert, who was cradled in her arms sucking his thumb.

“Yes, thank you Muriel,” said Mary, “that will be all for now.”

“Why don’t you take Robert upstairs for his bath,” said Fannie.

Muriel nodded, curtsied and took Robert upstairs.

No sooner had Muriel and Robert disappeared, than a door on the opposite side of the hall opened and a heavyset woman appeared. “Begging your pardon, madam,” she said, “but dinner will be served shortly.”

“Thank you Trudy,” replied Madam Goddard. She gestured to a pair of double doors hanging open, and to the dining room beyond. The dining room was panelled in oak. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. It cast a glittering rainbow of light upon the room as the facets of the crystal caught the light of the gas jets and cast it all over the room. Three places were set at the end of the table. Fannie sat down on one side, Madame Goddard on the other, while Nahum sat between his wife and his mother at the end of the table.

The door banged open and the smell of roast beef wafted out. Nahum’s mouth watered. Trudy stumped out of the kitchen and placed a large salver of beef on the table, followed by fresh rolls, carrots and mashed potatoes swimming in butter. When she had finished laying the table and pouring both water and red wine, she said, “do you require anything else, Sir and Madames?”

Nahum shook his head. “No, thank you,” he said, as he poured, rich looking dark brown gravy over his roast beef. “This looks excellent.”

“That will be all for now Trudy,” replied Fannie.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Trudy curtsied and returned to the kitchen.

Nahum picked up his knife and fork and started on his roast beef. He deposited a forkful of roast beef in his mouth. It was heavenly. He stopped chewing for a moment to savour the taste of the juices spreading across his tongue.

“Oh my,” said Fannie, as she picked up her knife and fork and took a bite. “This is wonderful.”

Mary nodded in agreement. “Yes,” she said. “This is clearly five dollars a week very well spent.”

Nahum almost choked on his mouthful of roast beef. “Five dollars a week?!” he spluttered. “Fannie, we can’t-”

Nahum’s mother laid a hand on his arm. “It’s alright dear,” she said. “I’m paying for your servants.”

Nahum felt flush and opened his mouth to protest. “Mother-” he began, but Madam Goddard cut her son off with a wave of her hand.

“I won’t hear a word of protest, Nahum,” she said emphatically. “I’ve arranged for a nursemaid for my grandson, a cook, a kitchen maid and someone to come and clean once a week.”

“Mother-” he tried again, but she cut him off before he could say anything else. Nahum and Fannie had discussed hiring a servant or two to help with the baby and clean the house, but they had decided that it wasn’t the right time to spend the money and that they would hire help once they had settled in and the company was on its feet and making money, which Nahum estimated was a year away.

Madame Goddard gave an even more emphatic nod than before. “It’s all arranged, Nahum,” she said. “I won’t hear a word of argument.”

Nahum turned to his wife. “What do you think, Fannie?”

Fannie paused momentarily, considering. Finally she said, “I know we hadn’t planned on servants just yet,” her eyes shifted back and forth between Nahum and his mother, “but it’s an extremely generous offer.”

Nahum sighed to himself. He knew enough to know when he had been outmaneuvered. “Alright. Mother, thank you.”

“You’re certainly welcome dear.” She patted his arm gently. “Now, why don’t we have some more of this excellent roast beef.”