THE THREE PIECE SUIT
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
“Willie, help me, Willie!” Wearing only underwear, the young man bounded down the stairs at least two at a time. Water and shaving cream streamed behind him like the mane of a galloping horse. His mother was sitting on a kitchen chair slapping baby Jamie’s back as she lay face down across her lap, shrieking, “She’s choking and can’t breathe.” He grabbed her by the tiny ankles, yanked her upside down in front of his mother and yelled, “Hit her back hard between the shoulders.” At first, nothing but the suffocating gurgle. He dropped her head down and yanked her back up in two quick moves, and with one more smack, a dark piece of gristle flew out onto the floor. It was hard to tell who was crying louder, the shrill of his sister or the wailing of his mother. “Oh Willie, I just can’t lose another” she sobbed. A car hit his younger brother, dying within months of his father passing from a work accident.
Making the monthly rent was always touch and go. Their modest income came from two sources. His mother worked taking in clothing for alterations and the infrequent opportunity to wash and iron for the few nearby families able to afford such a luxury. Willie had a full-time job of dry goods delivery. His mother did not allow a second job as she insisted on continued night school classes. She knew her son was bright and ambitious. Further education would benefit him enormously.
The small rental was in the Jackson Park neighborhood on Chicago’s Southside. His father had been a railroad worker, mixing well with the meat packing and steelworkers of the city. Willie had fond memories of the several occasions when he accompanied his father to the station to observe this dignified man assisting the elderly as they boarded the trains. William Albert took great pride in his appearance, his uniform always clean and pressed. His prized possession was the silver pocket watch on a silver chain he would draw from his vest pocket to keep waiting passengers aware of approaching trains. On the day of his funeral, Willie’s mother handed her son this family keepsake, reminding him he would be the third William Albert to carry this splendid timepiece. She encouraged him to show the same dignity and kindness of his father and grandfather.
Chicago Dry Goods Delivery trained their employees within specialities. Willie’s expertise spanned fabric, threads, and finished ready-to-wear clothing. He spent his days plying the alleys and basements of the finest stores on Michigan Avenue. At the end of most workdays, he would walk down the avenue to study the store fronts of his customers. Often, he would see mannequins dressed with clothing he had delivered, or spot a custom made dress or suit made from a beautiful fabric he had held. He never missed a chance to stop at Stoddard’s. A plaque by the front of the enormous double doors said “Founded By Amos Stoddard, 1850.”
For the past several weeks, Stoddard’s displayed a three-piece suit in the large center window that captivated Willie’s attention. Wool Herringbone twill weave in a dark brown color, the mannequin’s left hand held chest high, holding a gold pocket watch with a chain that led to the vest pocket. Staring at the suit one evening while his thoughts carried him to a future day and a different setting, he bolted up upon hearing a soft voice call out, “I see you in the alley, I see you in the basement, and now I see you at the window. You are surely our most frequent visitor.” He looked at the young woman, and for a moment, was speechless. Finally, his mind formed a rational response, and, “Hello, I see you often, you probably work here.” She touched a finger to the name badge on her dress, “Must be a giveaway, huh.” Willie felt the heat of his blush, and he stammered, “No, I know you work here because I see you often. I mean, I don’t see you all the time, just once in a while.” She laughed, gave a small wave goodbye, and stepped back into the store, looked back through the window, pointed to him, then pointed to the Herringbone suit, and gave an OK sign with her fingers.
His concentration that evening in the English class clashed with the encounter hours earlier. He knew the store clerk’s name was Ruth Ann, as he stared at her whenever given the opportunity. He guessed they could be the same age, but felt she was worlds away from him in her refinement. What was the meaning of her pointing at him and then to the suit with an OK sign? Did she think he would look good in the suit? Maybe they were not so far apart. She was a clerk, and he was a deliveryman. Willie had never been on a date. Perhaps he could invite her to dinner.
Arriving at work each morning, Willie’s first job was to arrange his deliveries in an efficient route, so no time wasted backtracking around town. His horse and wagon were at the dock by 7:00 a.m. and his goal was to have his first round completed by noon. Stoddard’s would be positioned as the last delivery on the afternoon run with the hope to see Ruth Ann. During the next several weeks there were many waves and smiles. At last there was an opportunity to talk when she approached him in the basement as he stacked several boxes of fabric. “A gentleman bought your suit yesterday” she said with a frown. “I saw it missing from the window last night” he replied. “Thanks for calling it my suit, I had many dreams wearing it as the owner of Stoddard’s.” Willie reached in his front pocket, pulled out his pocket watch and mimicked the pose of the mannequin. Ruth Ann laughed with great glee and said she thought he would be a fine owner of the store. “I assume it was a custom suit,” Willie said, “I didn’t recall delivering a ready-made of that quality or pattern.” Ruth Ann confirmed his suspicion and explained how they employ skilled seamstresses who specialize in men’s suits on an as needed basis. Willie spoke, “My mother can make that suit. She earns her wages by sewing.” Ruth Ann said perhaps she could lend him the pattern sometime if the owner would approve. Willie just smiled as he finished the delivery.
Several days later, the opportunity arose for Willie to extend a dinner invitation. Ruth Ann suggested meeting her father would be the best first step, and would he drop by later that evening? Dressed in the suit he would wear on special occasions, Willie walked to the Washington Park neighborhood seeking 125 Calumet Avenue. Confused that a store clerk family would live in such an expensive neighborhood, he grew nervous about this undertaking. As he neared the address, a voice called out from behind, “Young man, hold up.” Willie’s face was ashen as he faced the police officer. “Why are you walking in this neighborhood at night” the officer demanded? He held out the written address and explained his invitation. Without saying another word and grabbed by the arm, Willie marched two houses further down the street and walked up to the front door. A distinguished-looking gentleman answered the chime. “Beg your pardon Mr. Stoddard, this youngster said he was invited to your house.” Willie felt nauseous with this sudden clarity, and the man gave him no ease as he responded “I did no such thing!” Just as the circumstance neared a cataclysm, Ruth Ann appeared behind her father and exclaimed, “Daddy, this is my friend, I invited him to come meet you.”
As the trio sat in the walnut paneled library, Mr. Stoddard continued to display a gruff countenance, peppering his daughter and friend with questions. Without forethought, Willie fell into an enthusiastic monologue of fabrics, threads, and changing styles of clothing for both men and woman. The father held up his hand to hush the boy, “You’re a delivery boy for heaven’s sake, on what grounds can you claim to have such opinions?” Ruth Ann beat Willie in responding, explaining how Willie delivered to all their competitors, kept records on what was selling, and studied the storefronts after deliveries. Before her father could speak, she excitedly added that Willie’s mother was a seamstress. “Daddy, yesterday I sold that beautiful brown Herringbone suit we displayed in the center window. Can we test her skills by lending the pattern and fabric, I know it will continue to be a popular item.” With this added statement, Ruth Ann gave a look to Willie with a wink and smile. Mr. Stoddard pondered for a moment, and then looking at the young pair, spoke. “Let’s do this, come back next week and join us for dinner, I need to discuss this further with my junior partner here.”
For the next six evenings, Willie kissed his mother goodbye and left for night school. Once down the block, he turned in a different direction. Arriving at Michigan Avenue between Washington and Randolph street, he entered the Central Library. Sitting under the dome with the hanging lamps designed by Tiffany Glass and Decorating Company, he went to work on his creations.
Ruth Ann arranged with the cook that dinner would be thirty minutes later than her father had planned. As Willie arrived, she confessed her action, and asked if they could first go to his office, promising the time would be well spent. The sketches Willie had labored over represented changing clothing trends for both men and women. A lapel change, a skirt length moderation, several intriguing new colors, and many other style designs. Mr. Stoddard had taken the reins of the store from his father in 1880, and remembered how tirelessly he had worked to bring changes to displays, merchandise, and more progressive methods of customer service.
Willie would remember this evening, and the elegant dinner as a significant turning point in his life, and for the family. Mr. Stoddard approved of his mother making the custom suit, and Ruth Ann made sure they measured it for Willie to fit. Two months later, Mrs. Albert had a workspace in the basement sewing custom ware and young Jamie played happily in a small designated area. Upstairs, Willie dressed in his three piece Herringbone suit drew his watch from the vest pocket, and with a nod to Ruth Ann, unlocked the doors.
RICHARD SWAIN
A SHORT STORY BY RICHARD SWAIN
“Willie, help me, Willie!” Wearing only underwear, the young man bounded down the stairs at least two at a time. Water and shaving cream streamed behind him like the mane of a galloping horse. His mother was sitting on a kitchen chair slapping baby Jamie’s back as she lay face down across her lap, shrieking, “She’s choking and can’t breathe.” He grabbed her by the tiny ankles, yanked her upside down in front of his mother and yelled, “Hit her back hard between the shoulders.” At first, nothing but the suffocating gurgle. He dropped her head down and yanked her back up in two quick moves, and with one more smack, a dark piece of gristle flew out onto the floor. It was hard to tell who was crying louder, the shrill of his sister or the wailing of his mother. “Oh Willie, I just can’t lose another” she sobbed. A car hit his younger brother, dying within months of his father passing from a work accident.
Making the monthly rent was always touch and go. Their modest income came from two sources. His mother worked taking in clothing for alterations and the infrequent opportunity to wash and iron for the few nearby families able to afford such a luxury. Willie had a full-time job of dry goods delivery. His mother did not allow a second job as she insisted on continued night school classes. She knew her son was bright and ambitious. Further education would benefit him enormously.
The small rental was in the Jackson Park neighborhood on Chicago’s Southside. His father had been a railroad worker, mixing well with the meat packing and steelworkers of the city. Willie had fond memories of the several occasions when he accompanied his father to the station to observe this dignified man assisting the elderly as they boarded the trains. William Albert took great pride in his appearance, his uniform always clean and pressed. His prized possession was the silver pocket watch on a silver chain he would draw from his vest pocket to keep waiting passengers aware of approaching trains. On the day of his funeral, Willie’s mother handed her son this family keepsake, reminding him he would be the third William Albert to carry this splendid timepiece. She encouraged him to show the same dignity and kindness of his father and grandfather.
Chicago Dry Goods Delivery trained their employees within specialities. Willie’s expertise spanned fabric, threads, and finished ready-to-wear clothing. He spent his days plying the alleys and basements of the finest stores on Michigan Avenue. At the end of most workdays, he would walk down the avenue to study the store fronts of his customers. Often, he would see mannequins dressed with clothing he had delivered, or spot a custom made dress or suit made from a beautiful fabric he had held. He never missed a chance to stop at Stoddard’s. A plaque by the front of the enormous double doors said “Founded By Amos Stoddard, 1850.”
For the past several weeks, Stoddard’s displayed a three-piece suit in the large center window that captivated Willie’s attention. Wool Herringbone twill weave in a dark brown color, the mannequin’s left hand held chest high, holding a gold pocket watch with a chain that led to the vest pocket. Staring at the suit one evening while his thoughts carried him to a future day and a different setting, he bolted up upon hearing a soft voice call out, “I see you in the alley, I see you in the basement, and now I see you at the window. You are surely our most frequent visitor.” He looked at the young woman, and for a moment, was speechless. Finally, his mind formed a rational response, and, “Hello, I see you often, you probably work here.” She touched a finger to the name badge on her dress, “Must be a giveaway, huh.” Willie felt the heat of his blush, and he stammered, “No, I know you work here because I see you often. I mean, I don’t see you all the time, just once in a while.” She laughed, gave a small wave goodbye, and stepped back into the store, looked back through the window, pointed to him, then pointed to the Herringbone suit, and gave an OK sign with her fingers.
His concentration that evening in the English class clashed with the encounter hours earlier. He knew the store clerk’s name was Ruth Ann, as he stared at her whenever given the opportunity. He guessed they could be the same age, but felt she was worlds away from him in her refinement. What was the meaning of her pointing at him and then to the suit with an OK sign? Did she think he would look good in the suit? Maybe they were not so far apart. She was a clerk, and he was a deliveryman. Willie had never been on a date. Perhaps he could invite her to dinner.
Arriving at work each morning, Willie’s first job was to arrange his deliveries in an efficient route, so no time wasted backtracking around town. His horse and wagon were at the dock by 7:00 a.m. and his goal was to have his first round completed by noon. Stoddard’s would be positioned as the last delivery on the afternoon run with the hope to see Ruth Ann. During the next several weeks there were many waves and smiles. At last there was an opportunity to talk when she approached him in the basement as he stacked several boxes of fabric. “A gentleman bought your suit yesterday” she said with a frown. “I saw it missing from the window last night” he replied. “Thanks for calling it my suit, I had many dreams wearing it as the owner of Stoddard’s.” Willie reached in his front pocket, pulled out his pocket watch and mimicked the pose of the mannequin. Ruth Ann laughed with great glee and said she thought he would be a fine owner of the store. “I assume it was a custom suit,” Willie said, “I didn’t recall delivering a ready-made of that quality or pattern.” Ruth Ann confirmed his suspicion and explained how they employ skilled seamstresses who specialize in men’s suits on an as needed basis. Willie spoke, “My mother can make that suit. She earns her wages by sewing.” Ruth Ann said perhaps she could lend him the pattern sometime if the owner would approve. Willie just smiled as he finished the delivery.
Several days later, the opportunity arose for Willie to extend a dinner invitation. Ruth Ann suggested meeting her father would be the best first step, and would he drop by later that evening? Dressed in the suit he would wear on special occasions, Willie walked to the Washington Park neighborhood seeking 125 Calumet Avenue. Confused that a store clerk family would live in such an expensive neighborhood, he grew nervous about this undertaking. As he neared the address, a voice called out from behind, “Young man, hold up.” Willie’s face was ashen as he faced the police officer. “Why are you walking in this neighborhood at night” the officer demanded? He held out the written address and explained his invitation. Without saying another word and grabbed by the arm, Willie marched two houses further down the street and walked up to the front door. A distinguished-looking gentleman answered the chime. “Beg your pardon Mr. Stoddard, this youngster said he was invited to your house.” Willie felt nauseous with this sudden clarity, and the man gave him no ease as he responded “I did no such thing!” Just as the circumstance neared a cataclysm, Ruth Ann appeared behind her father and exclaimed, “Daddy, this is my friend, I invited him to come meet you.”
As the trio sat in the walnut paneled library, Mr. Stoddard continued to display a gruff countenance, peppering his daughter and friend with questions. Without forethought, Willie fell into an enthusiastic monologue of fabrics, threads, and changing styles of clothing for both men and woman. The father held up his hand to hush the boy, “You’re a delivery boy for heaven’s sake, on what grounds can you claim to have such opinions?” Ruth Ann beat Willie in responding, explaining how Willie delivered to all their competitors, kept records on what was selling, and studied the storefronts after deliveries. Before her father could speak, she excitedly added that Willie’s mother was a seamstress. “Daddy, yesterday I sold that beautiful brown Herringbone suit we displayed in the center window. Can we test her skills by lending the pattern and fabric, I know it will continue to be a popular item.” With this added statement, Ruth Ann gave a look to Willie with a wink and smile. Mr. Stoddard pondered for a moment, and then looking at the young pair, spoke. “Let’s do this, come back next week and join us for dinner, I need to discuss this further with my junior partner here.”
For the next six evenings, Willie kissed his mother goodbye and left for night school. Once down the block, he turned in a different direction. Arriving at Michigan Avenue between Washington and Randolph street, he entered the Central Library. Sitting under the dome with the hanging lamps designed by Tiffany Glass and Decorating Company, he went to work on his creations.
Ruth Ann arranged with the cook that dinner would be thirty minutes later than her father had planned. As Willie arrived, she confessed her action, and asked if they could first go to his office, promising the time would be well spent. The sketches Willie had labored over represented changing clothing trends for both men and women. A lapel change, a skirt length moderation, several intriguing new colors, and many other style designs. Mr. Stoddard had taken the reins of the store from his father in 1880, and remembered how tirelessly he had worked to bring changes to displays, merchandise, and more progressive methods of customer service.
Willie would remember this evening, and the elegant dinner as a significant turning point in his life, and for the family. Mr. Stoddard approved of his mother making the custom suit, and Ruth Ann made sure they measured it for Willie to fit. Two months later, Mrs. Albert had a workspace in the basement sewing custom ware and young Jamie played happily in a small designated area. Upstairs, Willie dressed in his three piece Herringbone suit drew his watch from the vest pocket, and with a nod to Ruth Ann, unlocked the doors.
RICHARD SWAIN