Vindication

Since we aren’t seeing many posts lately, I thought a longer story would be okay. Besides, I don’t have to read this out loud which is always a plus.

Vindication

 

Jack Baker had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. When he was 9- years old he was accused of stealing an apple from a street vendor in Manhattan’s Hell’s Kitchen. Two boys walking several yards in front of Jack had filled their backpacks with fruit from the sidewalk stand, and as they ran away yelled, “Hey, mister, that boy just stole an apple!”

The owner grabbed Jack and vigorously searched his pockets and bookbag looking for the stolen fruit but found nothing. Stunned, Jack tried to explain that the other boys were the real thieves but the owner was not convinced.

The next day, Jack confronted one of the boys who had falsely accused him.

“Why did you tell the grocer I stole an apple? You need to tell him I didn’t take anything.”

“I don’t need to do anything I don’t want to,” replied Mickey O’Toole. “I belong to the Baby Gophers, I’m protected.”

“Not from me you’re not,” replied Jack, and promptly punched him in the nose.

From then on, a feud formed between the two boys that lasted well into adulthood.

Jack’s family owned a small bakery selling cookies, brownies, donuts, and special-order cakes. His parents had emigrated from France in 1912 fearing the rise of Germany. Like many immigrants passing through Ellis Island, they changed their last name to Baker from the French equivalent Fournier. His parents felt the transformation would help the family blend into their new country.

As Jack grew older, he was given more and more duties in the family store. By the time he turned 14, Jack worked the register, delivered orders throughout the neighborhood and was able to make most items from scratch. School was something he had to do, working in the family business was something he liked to do.

Jack’s bad luck once again manifested itself while on his way home from one such delivery. Twilight had descended on Hell’s Kitchen but the street lights were not yet lit.  He heard a loud noise that sounded like trash cans being knocked over, followed by a feeble cry for help from a nearby alley. Jack’s senses were on full alert as he contemplated going to investigate. Suddenly, a man dressed in dark clothing, face obscured by shadows, raced past him and rapidly disappeared around a corner.

Jack quickly entered the alleyway and found an elderly man lying unconscious in a pile of refuse. Someone must have called the police because minutes after, two beat cops arrived on the scene and observed Jack standing over the victim. The police grabbed Jack, cuffed his wrists and marched him to the local precinct house as he proclaimed his innocence. When the arresting officer found the money Jack was carrying, he immediately assumed it had been stolen from the unfortunate man.

Try as he might, no one would listen to Jack’s proffered explanation. It was only after the man regained consciousness and gave a full description of his assailant that the police begrudgingly admitted they had made a mistake and freed Jack. He returned home late that evening to frantic parents and told them about his misadventure.

Several more years passed and Jack discovered he had a flair for cake decorating. He was a true artist, creating intricate designs. Orders poured in as word of his confectionary creations spread. The little Hell’s Kitchen shop flourished and added staff as many other businesses were laying off people.

The Kitchen’s Gopher Gang was also flourishing during the same time period. Bootleg liquor, gambling, and protection rackets made up a large part of their portfolio. It was only a matter of time before gang members paid the bakery shop a visit.

Jack was putting the finishing touches on a wedding cake when he heard a commotion coming from the front of the store. He stopped what he was doing, parted the curtain separating the kitchen from the sales floor and went to check out the problem. Mickey O’Toole and two of his gang members stood on the other side of the counter.

“Hello, Mickey, what can I help you with today—cookies, maybe a nice pie?”

“No, Jack, I’m here to collect an insurance payment that your business will pay us every week from now on.”

“And just what does this insurance protect me from?” inquired Jack.

“It ensures that this fine establishment remains in its current pristine condition, safe from vandalism and arson. For just 5% of your weekly gross, you and your family can rest easy every night knowing this fine business is safe. Come now boyo even you can see the advantages.”

“Sorry, Mickey, but I’ve already purchased insurance,” replied Jack as he reached under the counter and produced a 12-gauge, pump-action shotgun.

“Now, boyo, I want you and your merry band of Gophers to leave my family’s store and never come back. I told you when we were 9 that you weren’t protected from me and I meant it!”

The three thugs retreated out the door with Mickey muttering, “You haven’t heard the last of this.”

Normally the immigrant community, as a whole, shy away from police. There are many reasons for this from being mistreated by the authorities in their native countries to an unfamiliarity with the new country’s laws. Once Mickey left, Jack decided on his next course of action. If Mickey had a gang to back him up, he needed one as well. Early the next day he collected several dozen donuts along with muffins and assorted pastries, placed them in a box, and carried it to the police station.

“Excuse me, Sir,” said Jack to the Desk Sergeant. “I want to drop these off for you and your men as a thank you for all that you do for the community. Please let your men know they are welcome in my family’s shop anytime, day or night, and the first donut and coffee are on the house.”

The sergeant, both surprised and perplexed, opened the box and eyeballed its content. He removed a crueler and took a bite. A wide grin spread across his plump face.

“I’ll make sure the boys get to sample these and know about your generous offer. I predict you’ll be seeing a large police presence at your shop from now on.”

Jack walked away content in the knowledge that he had just secured a gang of his own.

Several months passed with no further threats from the Gophers. It would have been very difficult to strong-arm Jack and his family when there always seemed to be a cop or two, or a half dozen, hanging around the store.

Jack felt it was time for him to have his own space and found an apartment two blocks from the bakery. It was in the privacy of his personal kitchen that he developed a technique to elevate his designs to the pinnacle of perfection. New York society flocked to the little shop just to have one of Jack’s unique creations grace their banquet table.

Mickey O’Toole also achieved acclaim in his chosen profession. His bootleg and extortion rackets grossed more revenue than any two other bosses combined. With so much going on in his own life he had almost forgotten about Jack and his family— almost that is until he read an article in the New York Times about a French immigrant named Jack Baker who was the go-to guy for specialty cakes and fine pastries. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he always did when thinking about that damned frog, and contemplated how to pay him back.

It became necessary to move the bulk of production for the bakery to a new, modern facility to keep pace with demand. Jack’s parents still ran the original store while Jack oversaw what was now the factory portion of the business. When all the equipment was in place, operating permits obtained, health inspections completed, and extra staff hired, Jack planned a grand opening. Invited guests included the mayor, city council members, and New York socialites. During final preparations for the event, Jack looked around the facility and realized he did not recognize a couple of new employees.

“Who are those two guys?” he asked his newly promoted foreman.

“We were short two people today so a temp agency sent them over. They seem to know their way around a kitchen and I put them to work,” the foreman replied.

“Keep an eye on them, we can’t afford any screw-ups tonight of all nights.”

“No problem boss, you can count on me!”

The long-awaited grand opening party kicked off without a hitch. With the repeal of prohibition, the guests were served champagne, wine, and mixed drinks along with canapes of various types. Three large covered carts were wheeled in. The crowd gathered around in anticipation of the big reveal.

Jack addressed the guests. “Ladies and gentlemen, I felt it only appropriate that the theme for tonight should be transitions. My family and I left France in search of a new life and new opportunities.”

With that, the cover on the first cart was removed revealing a cake in the shape of France, complete with mountains, rivers, vineyards, and of course the Eiffel Tower.

Jack continued, “We left France on a tramp steamer called the North Star and fourteen days later arrived in New York Harbor.”

The contents of the second cart was unveiled to expose an intricately detailed ship plying the ocean.

“Finally, after clearing Customs and Immigration on Ellis Island, we set foot on our promised land.”

As Jack finished speaking, the waiter removed the final cover with a flourish and a magnificent rendering of the New York City Skyline complete with the Empire State Building was unveiled.

The crowd cheered and applauded their approval while Jack’s parents just stood to the side beaming with pride. As if on cue, a piece of the ocean was pushed aside and a cockroach emerged from the opening followed by more mini-eruptions spewing forth ‘roaches and black beetles. A collective gasp was released by the crowd. A well-dressed man shouldered his way to the forefront and removed a long knife from his inside coat pocket. Speaking loud enough for all to hear he said, “Look at what this man intended to feed you good people tonight.” He then cut into the Empire State Building and removed a dead rat. The attendees were repulsed and the sound of several people retching could be heard.

“This is the kind of filth Mr. Baker and his family have been feeding the good people of New York all these years,” shouted Mickey O’Toole.

Two uniformed officers along with the Chief of Police approached Jack and demanded that he accompany them to police headquarters. While being led out of the hall Jack exclaimed, “I know that man, he’s part of the Gopher gang. He set this up!” ­— No one listened.

It was well into early morning before Jack finally convinced the Police Chief that none of this was his doing.

“Chief, I’ve known that man since we were kids. He tried to set me up back then and he’s trying to do it again. I’ve never let him get away with pushing me around in the past and I’m not going to let him do it now!”

“Jack, if what you’re telling me is true then you better let the police handle this. These gangs are dangerous characters and you don’t want to put your family or yourself in harm’s way. Until we can sort this out, I’ll have to charge you with public health code violations and recommend you stand trial. I’m sorry, Jack”

Jack returned to his apartment dead tired but unable to sleep. He showered, dressed in fresh clothes and walked to the new bakery, hoping the fresh air would clear his head. When he arrived, the only person there to greet him was his foreman and right-hand man Bill.

Bill started the conversation. “I’ve gone through everyone’s cubbyhole and found these mason jars and some tin foil in the temporary helps locker. I think they brought the bugs in using these jars, and the rat was wrapped in the foil.”

“I agree,” Jack replied, “and wasn’t it convenient that Mickey knew just where to find that rat among all that cake. I think it’s time to visit Mr. O’Toole’s boss, Mr. Owney Madden.”

Stunned, Billy asked, “How do you know Madden?”

“He’s been a customer for years. He loves dad’s French pastries. He may not help but it’s worth a shot.”

The next day, armed with a box of plum tarts, Jack went to Madden’s home and knocked on the front door. A bodyguard answered and Jack explained who he was and that he had a gift for the man’s boss in exchange for a few minutes of his time. He was ushered into a front parlor and told to wait. Ten minutes later, Madden joined him.

“It’s been a long time, Jack. I heard what happened at your grand opening, such a shame.”

“Yes, it is, Sir,” replied Jack, “and I was hoping you might be able to help me.”

Jack recounted the saga from its beginning at the age 9 to his current predicament.

“So, you see, Sir, I know who ruined my cakes and my reputation, I just don’t know where to find them. I know Mickey is off-limits, but I’m sure these other two are of little significance to you.”

“You’re right about the two chumps, but what’s in it for me?”

“I knew you were going to ask me that, and I believe I have the perfect gift. Your Daughter is getting married in two months’ time and I would be honored to provide the designer wedding cake of her dreams, along with elegantly boxed European delicacies for your guests.

“I like you, Jack, and your right, those two are just dumb muscle. I accept your offer. The police can pick them up at O’Malley’s Bar in about an hour.” He wrote two names on a piece of paper and handed it to Jack. “Mickey won’t bother you any longer, the feud is over.”

Three weeks later Jack appeared in court to answer charges related to the incident. Reporters from all major newspapers were in attendance ready to report on the “Bug Man” cake decorator.

The bailiff entered the court room, asked everyone to rise, and introduced Judge Greeley.

“In light of recent testimony regarding these charges, I am dismissing this case.  Furthermore, I am ordering that all references be expunged from your record.” Proclaimed the judge as he banged his gavel and called, “Next case!”

Jack returned to his bakery and prepared to make Madden’s daughter the most spectacular wedding cake anyone had ever seen.