Littlest Hero

From the very beginning of United States history, there have been a great number of heroes of all kinds. Most of them were men and women of great stature and strength. If these people were not standing up to armies or outlaws, then they were battling the weather, or the lonely stretches of this vast country. Many of these heroes were born here, however a very great number of them left their homes in the old country, and that could be any spot on the face of the earth. The masses came looking for a fresh start, where they could live and raise their children in truth and freedom. This country became the melting pot of people of all backgrounds from all over the earth. America was built by people from all nations. This is the story of one small boy looking for a home.

Ivan Yanosh was only seven years and four months of age and stood only forty inches in height. His body was thin, just skin stretched over some bones. He walked stooped from the hard work he and his family were forced to endure in the work houses. However they had to eat to stay alive, so they were forced to work, and it was very hard work.

Neither Ivan, nor his two sisters, older than himself, could go to school. Their Mother, Anna taught them to read the Holy Bible, and the little arithmetic that she knew. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing at all. She would read to them from newspapers, magazines, or borrowed books any time she could obtain them. After twelve hours, or more at work and a small meal, the whole family would quickly fall asleep, in their tiny one bedroom apartment they shared in a large New York apartment building.

Johann Yanosh, Ivan's father, was a big and strong man from working in the work camps all his life. His parents and those of his wife scrimped and saved to pay the passage for Johann, Anna and the children to America. They heard it was a place where each man was his own boss, the common people could own their own land, and it was free. A place where there were no more work camps. Two years earlier, Johann and family landed in New York. They were filled with such great expectations, but all too soon, it turned to despair. All they found was more slums, just like the ones they had left behind. The worst part, they could only find work in the dreaded work houses. If they didn’t except the offer of work, there were lots of people willing to do so. Life for the Yanosh family did not change. They left behind their parents, and now they knew no one and there would be no way of going back to the old country.

“It’s no use,” cried Anna “we just go to die in the work houses.”

“Mama,” said Johann to his wife. “We just got to go farther west.”

“Poppa,” she said “yo crazy . . . we have no money to go west.”

“Mama, we’ll work and save and soon we will go to the west,” Johann said.

So, for two years the family worked and saved. But with each passing day, their dreams became dimmer, and all too soon it began to fade way. Then one day Johann had a real brain storm.

“Mama, we will send Ivan to the west on the train,” he explained to Anna. “There he can locate us farm . . . write to us and we can go west to this farm he has found.” He was excited and smiling bigger than he ever done in a very long time.

“Yo sick poppa,” she said as she felt his forehead.

“No! Mama No!” he pleaded. “I’ve discussed it with my friend, Mac, who works for railroad. He makes with the click, click, click . . .”

“Telegraph,” said Joanna the oldest girl.

“Ya,” said Johann looking at his daughter. “He says he can help get Ivan to the west.”

“No! Poppa, Ivan just a baby,” she cried. “He can’t take himself there . . . how . . . no! No! No!” She pulled the youngster into her arms and she began to cry softly into his small frame.

“Mama,” said Johann softly. “Ivan will not live long in sweat shops . . . he’s not getting enough good food. Winter time . . . he will not live through.”

“No! Poppa no!” sobbed the mother as she cried all the harder. There were tears rolling down the face of the big man too.

A few days went by and when Anna came home from the work house, she found her husband already there in the tiny apartment with Joanna, Natasha, and Ivan.

“Poppa,” she shouted hysterically. “Poppa,” she grabbed his strong arms. “Terrible it was.”

“What? Mama,” asked Johann as he held his wife close to his chest. He could see she was filled with horror from something.

“Two young boys were killed today,” she said through her tears.

“Oh! Mama!” he said as he ran his big hands over his wife’s back and head as he held her close to his big chest.

“They didn’t even stop work . . . they threw them into a wagon,” she was choking on her sobs. “To the dump with the trash they went . . . no one cared. That could happen to Ivan, my baby.”

Johann was a very strong man, but the tears were rolling down his face. They didn’t know the boys, but they both realized now that sooner, or later, their children could be victims of the inhumane task masters in the work houses.

Late in the night Anna spoke to Johann.

“Poppa, yo go tell . . . click, click man to send Ivan west,” she said.

“Yaw, Mama,” he said lowly. “I go see Mac the click, click man first thing morning.”

McElroy the telegrapher was seated at the station desk when Johann approached him that morning. The telegraph was clicking away on the sounder and he was writing on a pad of paper the words to the meaning of the clicks.

“Mac,” said Johann. The man quickly held up his hand to keep the intruder from speaking further. As soon as the message was completed he pounded a few clicks and then folded the page and placed it into an envelope. He then licked the glue and sealed it.

“Boy,” he called out. A youth came forward and the telegrapher gave him the envelope. The youth read the address and then he sped off on his bicycle to deliver the telegram.

“Johann,” said the telegrapher as he recognized the big man before him. “What brings you down here?”

“I want you send Ivan west,” he said loudly.

“Sssh,” said the man holding a right hand index finger over his lips. “Not here, I’ll meet you in the switching yard . . . there we can talk.”

“Soon?” asked Johann.

“In twenty minutes,” the man said “that’s when I get my break.”

“That be fine,” replied Johann.

The two men met in the yard near a call box on a pole. Some men were working several yards away. No one was close enough to hear their conversation.

“Yo send Ivan to west, yaw,” said Johann.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked McElroy.

“Yaw, yaw,” said Johann “Mama and me got no other way.”

“If the railroad finds out . . . . I could loose my job, as well as any one else who gets involved with this crazy scheme,” explained Mac. “Okay, here’s how we'll have to do it. I will contact the other key men along the route. They in turn will contact other key men on down the line to help the boy reach his destination. Ah . . . what’s his destination?”

“To where we get free land . . . good farm land,” said the big man.

“I understand that, but where?” asked Mac. The Johann shrugged his shoulders. “All right, I’ll ask the other key men if one of them knows a good place.”

“You send Ivan today,” asked Johann.

“No! It’ll take me a few days to get it all arranged. Then we have to wait for the right train leaving New York,” he said.

“When?” pleaded Johann impatiently.

“Hey, now, Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know,” cried Mac.

“I don’t want Rome . . . send Ivan west . . . please.” Johann had a hold of the man’s shoulder and was squeezing it gently, but firmly.

McElroy shook his head for a few seconds then said “I have got to be nuts . . . stark raving nuts.”

“Soon?” asked Johann with an air of urgency to his voice.

“Soon,” said the man. They shook hands and parted company.