Pawn of Fate

By Janet Frances Gibbs

Emma Baden is swept into the dangerous world of radical union organizers in the silk mill town of Union Hill in 1911. She is drawn to the charismatic socialist leader Frederick Mossler, who charms her into becoming a speaker for his cause and, later, his wife. When an evening rally suddenly turns violent, Emma is forgotten by Frederick but rescued from the panicked mob by Max Keppel, the handsome heir to the town’s largest mill. Their attraction is immediate, yet he is married to Lavinia and considered an enemy of the unions. Still, their friendship survives, and Max is there for Emma at the most opportune times. Real life is not always a storybook tale, and sometimes Emma wonders: Is she just a pawn of fate, or do her choices make a difference for herself and others?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Mar 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781509211999

Book preview

Inc.

As they reached the main road, a car swerved to avoid hitting them. She recognized the Keppel coat of arms, but it was not Max in the back seat; it was a small woman. Emma stared as it drove away.

Frederick pulled her closer. Is that what you want?

Emma tossed her hair. No, of course not. It’s just interesting to see how the owners live, isn’t it?

Frederick smiled. They have so much, and yet their workers have so little. One day it will all be equal. Keppel better enjoy his life while he can.

He turned back toward the harbor. "Look at that dock over there. See that ship? It’s the Mauretania, one of the biggest ships afloat, over thirty-one thousand tons. Her sister ship, the Lusitania, just broke the transatlantic record from Ireland to New York."

Emma strained to see what he was talking about. How do you know so much about it?

Ever since I came to America in steerage, I’ve always dreamed of returning to Germany in a great ship like that. He stopped, embarrassed.

Emma couldn’t help herself; she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He returned her kiss, and Emma felt her knees go weak. He was right about Max Keppel. She meant nothing to him. He was never going to mean anything to her or the union. He was only protecting his mill.

Acknowledgements

This novel was made possible by

a grant from the AAUW.

Pawn of Fate

by

Janet Frances Gibbs

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Pawn of Fate

COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Janet Frances Gibbs

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Kim Mendoza

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Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Mainstream Historical Rose Edition, 2017

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1198-2

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1199-9

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to Howard Albanesius, who introduced me to the embroidery mills of Union City, New Jersey.

With appreciation to my patient copy editor, Chloe Albanesius, who carefully read each chapter and edited with love.

To Lydia Helgesen, who reminds me to love every day.

With thanks and love to Jon Albanesius, who always believed in me and bought me the Apple IIE thirty years ago so I would take my writing seriously.

With gratitude to Bunny Franco who suggested The Wild Rose Press and urged me to submit!

May the gods grant you all things which your heart desires, and may they give you a husband and a home and gracious concord, for there is nothing greater and better than this—when a husband and wife keep a household in oneness of mind, a great woe to their enemies and joy to their friends, and win high renown.

~Homer, The Odyssey

Chapter One

My God, they nearly killed us! Emma Baden screamed to her friend Ursula. Both of them were now standing amidst spilled food and flowers.

Here, let me help, said a deep voice. The man’s cap covered his eyes as he leaned down to scoop up sausages, bread, and cabbage that had been tossed in the air when the huge limousine jumped the curb.

Thank you. That car seemed to come from nowhere, Emma replied. She caught a whiff of beer and tobacco as he handed her the basket.

They have no use for any of us. The Keppels are only interested in making money, not in helping the people, so if they kill a few of us, it’s no matter, the stranger said.

Maybe, but I’m glad they didn’t get any closer today. Thanks for your help.

You’re welcome. Do you work at the Keppels mill?

Emma blushed.

She works at her father’s mill, but I work at Keppels, Ursula interjected. Do you work there? I don’t remember seeing you.

The man smiled and eyed Ursula from head to foot. If I’d seen you, I’d have remembered, miss. Now it was Ursula’s turn to blush.

Well, thanks again. We better get home, Emma said.

But the young man walked alongside the two young women as if he’d known them his whole life. I don’t think I caught your name.

Emma Baden. And you?

Frederick Mossler. I’m here with the union.

Emma knew about the men who had recently moved into Union City from the Midwest. My father says you’re outsiders and want to make trouble.

Tell your father we only want the best for workers. We’re going to change the world.

My father wouldn’t agree with you. He’s run his own mill for many years and doesn’t need a union to keep his workers happy.

Without missing a beat, Frederick nodded and continued in a softer tone. Perhaps I need to meet your father and help him understand about our union. Do you live near here?

Emma was cautious but intrigued. Just down this road and turn left on Lewis Street. She immediately regretted telling him, knowing he would somehow cause trouble.

Frederick winked. Well, I’ll be off, ladies. You never know where we’ll meet again. Good day to you.

He was quite nice, wasn’t he? Ursula said as they neared the top of the hill.

Yes, but I’m not so sure about this union.

I’ll have to look for him at Keppels on Monday, Ursula said with a giggle.

Union Hill was a small town. Most people knew each other, since they’d come from small villages in Germany or Switzerland to settle on the Palisades. Everyone knew the mills and the familiar Keppel family crest, a gold lion clutching a needle and thread in its paws. It was on the mill entrance, the gates to their mansion, and the doors of all their limousines.

Well, I think we have to be careful of men who come here to organize the workers. We’ve been fine so far, said Emma.

Who was that woman in the car? Ursula asked, swinging her brown market basket.

That’s Lavinia Keppel, Emma whispered. My father says she has boyfriends. Both girls giggled and nudged each other.

I think she’s just plain spoiled. If I had a nice-looking husband like Max Keppel, I’d behave myself, Ursula said.

What do you know about being nice to men? teased Emma.

Not much now, but I’m sure I could learn real quickly if Max Keppel was the teacher, Ursula quipped. Both girls ran up the rest of the hill, laughing.

At the top they paused. Do you remember their wedding? Keppels closed their mill for the day and gave every girl at the mill two pink silk ribbons for her hair. I thought that was so nice, Ursula said in a dreamy voice.

What did it cost them to cut up a few scraps and make everyone think they’re being so generous? What did that mean compared to the money they spent on the wedding and the party afterward?

Emma, you’re so hard sometimes.

Well, I’m not going to daydream over some man just because he’s rich. I’ll make my own money and never depend on anyone, unless I love them.

Oh, and how do you plan to make all this money without a man to take care of you?

I’m not sure, but I’d like to work and have my own business. Maybe we could work together.

I don’t want to work forever. I’d rather get married and have children, just haven’t met anyone I like except…

Emma interrupted her. I know, Max Keppel. Well, I’m sorry to say he’s taken, so you’d better find someone else.

He only married her because his mother planned it. Lavinia had the silk, Max Keppel had the mills—it was a merger, not a marriage. Mama says the old lady was a real troublemaker.

I don’t know how you find all this out; it’s as if you were part of the Keppel family. Emma laughed.

Mama says that half of all gossip is true—so it’s best to listen and then decide. It’s probably good that Old Lady Keppel died; at least she can’t interfere now, Ursula said. Did you know Keppels fired some women and cut the hours of others? Maybe they’re getting nervous about the new union coming to town.

If Lavinia Keppel keeps spending all her husband’s money, we won’t have to worry about them going bankrupt. She’ll do it for them.

Keppels Embroidery Mill had driven half the small family shops out of business, though Emma’s father had managed to keep his small mill, Badens, running because of its delicate handwork and intricate designs, which bigger and newer machines couldn’t reproduce. Keppels was known for producing its embroidery quickly and cheaply, but it did so without much concern for quality.

Rumors were rampant in Union Hill that Keppels planned to buy faster looms, which would mean laying off more workers. The established unions in the small town were outraged at the idea of machinery replacing dedicated workers. Stories of an outside union organizing all the workers worried the older men but excited the younger hotheads. The idea of a bleacher and a pattern maker being part of the same union made the old-timers laugh, but some of the less experienced ones were beginning to listen.

It was hard to think of this peaceful, small town nestled high above the Hudson River as a hotbed for radicals. Emma inhaled the sweet sea air blowing in from the Hudson River and the harbor below. She liked the constancy of it; the river flowed out to meet the ocean, no matter what happened on its banks. The elegant ships with their tall masts had mesmerized her since she was a little girl. She dreamed of living in one of the city’s houses and wearing a blue silk dress with matching hat, but for now, she wanted to simply visit New York City and dine in one of its elegant restaurants.

She knew her dreams would have to wait. At eighteen, she worked six days a week in her father’s mill, where the Schiffli beat its rhythm, spinning simple threads into delicate silk.

Do you think you’ll ever get married? Ursula asked.

I don’t know. There’s got to be more.

What does your mother say? Doesn’t she want grandchildren?

Perhaps, Emma responded absentmindedly. Maybe I’ll work over there. She gestured toward the city.

What would you do in New York? Wouldn’t you be afraid?

No, it would be exciting. I’d like to design the clothes instead of just making embroidery for them.

The two girls continued in silence along the main road of Union Hill.

Oh, look at that hat! Isn’t it beautiful? Ursula squealed as she peered into E. Spingarn’s department store window.

Emma urged her on. Come on, it’s getting late.

The girls walked quickly past neat row houses with ornate gingerbread additions, wide front porches, small front gardens, and low picket fences.

Emma’s parents had lived on Lewis Street since leaving the boarding house in Jersey City. They were just two of the thousands who had escaped from Germany to arrive at New York’s Castle Garden, hoping for a new beginning. Joseph Baden began work at Keppels as a silk twister. He wore thin white gloves every day to protect his skin from the tiniest nicks; any small catch on his skin could mar the delicate silk, ruining an entire bolt of cloth. Joseph had saved enough money after six months to begin his own small mill, which grew slowly but steadily, though the threat of Keppels loomed large.

See you tomorrow, Emma? Ursula asked as they crossed the street to her house.

Sure, after work.

Emma smiled as her friend ran down the side of the puddle-filled road and skipped over several big piles of manure, her dress pulled up around her ankles. Emma pushed open the small low gate to her house and walked slowly up the narrow walkway, noticing the chipped paint and peeling shutters. Joseph lovingly oiled and polished his Schiffli machines but turned a blind eye to the care of his own house.

She clutched her bouquet of bright flowers, an extravagance Emma knew her mother would love, a reminder of the German village she’d fled as her country was torn apart by warring political factions. The front door opened, and a short, stout woman stood wiping her floury hands on a white apron, her little body silhouetted against the blackness of the hallway.

Well, I was getting worried, she murmured.

Emma wiped her feet on the front mat and handed the small bouquet of jonquils and hyacinths to her mother.

Oh, thank you, Emma, they are so beautiful! She held them to her face, and it softened,