The Pigeon Man Read online

  THE PIGEON MAN

  Pants On Fire Press

  Winter Garden

  Pants On Fire Press, Winter Garden 34787

  Text copyright © 2016 by Joel Edward Stein

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form by any means without written permission from the publisher, Pants On Fire Press. For information contact Pants On Fire Press.

  All names, places, incidents, and characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Visit us at www.PantsOnFirePress.com

  Book design by David M. F. Powers

  Art copyright © 2016 by Pants On Fire Press

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content).

  First edition 2016

  Printed in the United States of America

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data on file.

  ISBN: 9781625179449

  For Richard Stein - my big brother

  Chapter 1

  It was one of those grey blustery days when the sky looked ready for the season’s first snow. Danny pulled his coat collar up against the biting wind, he would be glad to reach the warmth of his home. But something caught Danny’s eye as he walked home from school. Something strange was going on down the block. Why were so many birds swarming over the street? Why were they flying like that; circling, gliding, darting in and out like miniature fighter pilots? He had never seen anything like it. He walked closer to get a better look. A bird lying on the sidewalk was being attacked by others. They flew at it with a terrible fury; dive bombing and pelting it with angry pecks. The downed bird was putting up a valiant struggle, but the odds were against it. Danny couldn’t just walk away from the hapless victim. He ran into the unruly flock; waving his arms, yelling, and screaming to frighten them away. The fierce attackers finally flew off, scattering in different directions, leaving the victim and Danny somewhat bewildered. When they were gone he crouched down and looked at the wounded bird. It was a young pigeon. The iridescent feathers on its neck were matted with blood, and one of its wings was splayed and appeared to be broken. Danny reached out slowly and deliberately. He didn’t want to frighten the bird. He moved closer and gently picked it up in his cupped hands. The bird looked at Danny with warm amber eyes, surprisingly calm for the condition it was in. It seemed to appreciate Danny’s bold intervention.

  Danny cradled the pigeon and began the walk back to his apartment building. He could feel the bird’s warmth against his chest. He hadn’t walked more than a few feet when he heard shrieks and screams behind him; unfortunate and familiar voices. The same irritating and taunting voices he had heard at school. The same nasty boys from his class at Franklin Junior High.

  There were three of them and they walked fast to get closer to Danny. Two of the boys were bigger and taller than Danny, the third one, shorter and huskier than the other two, lagged behind. When they reached Danny they crowded around him.

  “Hey Greenhorn!” one boy yelled out in a high taunting tone. “What are ya doin’?” Danny looked up and recognized the boy with the red hair and freckled face. It was Tommy Vincent; a boy in his seventh grade homeroom at Franklin. The other two boys were in Danny’s English class. All loud, rowdy troublemakers.

  “Yeah, whaddya got there?” The other boy said in an annoying singsong tone. He was a tall gawky kid, about fourteen years old with the beginnings of blonde stubble on his pimply face. It was Ken Wilson; a kid destined for reform school. The third boy finally caught up and nudged his way between the other two to see if he missed anything.

  “Yeah, whaddya got?” He said through the side of his mouth, mimicking his friends.

  They poked and prodded at Danny to see what he was carrying.

  “Hey, it looks like he got a bird there!” Tommy yelled out; his pale blue eyes wide and bulging.

  “Yeah,” Ken said, picking up on Tommy’s excitement. “Would ya look at dat!”

  They danced around him. Pawing and grabbing and trying to get at the bird.

  Danny crouched over the pigeon, forming a protective barrier between the bird and the boys. He felt much like the bird he just rescued; battered and overwhelmed. Still, he would not allow them to hurt it. He would stand for as long as it took to shield the pigeon from further harm.

  Suddenly, a loud bellow boomed through the air, freezing the offenders in their tracks.

  “Whaddya think yer doin’?”

  The words seemed to vibrate all the way down the block. “Git outta here! Ya little snotbags!”

  One of the boys looked up, “Oh man! Here comes the old gimp!”

  A huge hulking figure, made larger by a heavy army overcoat, appeared from the alley between the two apartment buildings. The three boys’ attention was now focused on the massive man lumbering down the street. They instantly stopped what they were doing and took off running. One of them turned around and yelled, “Why don’t you shove it? Ya old gimp.”

  The stocky kid shouted, “Yeah, ya old gimpy geezer!” But in his cockiness his foot got tangled in a crack on the sidewalk, he tripped and skinned his knee. Quickly scurrying back up, he limped to catch up with the other two boys who by now were almost out of sight.

  Danny was still stooped over and shielding the bird.

  “It’s okay kid. They’re gone now.” It was a hoarse, gravelly voice that he was hearing but the tone softened.

  Danny looked up to see a huge hulk of a man. He had a ruddy complexion, the crooked nose of a prize fighter, and a white shock of hair. The craggy, imposing man walked over to Danny with a pronounced limp and gently inspected the pigeon.

  “So, what are you going to do with the pigeon?” The man asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Danny was still stunned by the events that had taken place on his walk home from school.

  “I keep pigeons up there,” the big man said. He pointed to the rooftop. “They let me keep them in a coop on the roof as long as no one complains. I think I can help it but first I have to find out what’s wrong with it.”

  Danny didn’t answer at first but he sensed genuine kindness in the man.

  “If it’s okay with you,” the big man went on.

  “Will I be able to see it again?”

  “Of course! You can see it anytime you want.”

  Danny reluctantly handed the bird over and the man carefully took it in his large hands.

  “Sure, just come to the roof,” the man said. “Just knock on the door, ‘cause I keep it locked.”

  “What’s your name?” Danny asked.

  “Mike. Mike Delaney,” the man replied. “And what’s your name?”

  “I’m Danny. Danny Simon.”

  ***

  Mike Delaney was a janitor in the building where Danny Simon lived. When he wasn’t sweeping the hallways or hauling trashcans to the side of the building, he was up on the roof with his pigeons. Despite the loud bellowing voice Danny experienced, Delaney was a quiet, almost shy man. He kept to himself and most people steered clear of him. People knew that he was a World War II veteran, that he lived in the basement of the building, and that he kept pigeons on the roof. But that was all they knew. Most people didn’t care to know more.

  Sometimes people grew impatient with Mike Delaney because he couldn’t move as fast as he used to, but he tried to ignore them. Every now and then, in the middle of the night when he wasn’t expecting it, the war would sneak back on him and keep him awake. But, in the morning, his pigeons helped him to forget. If there was thing Mike Delaney knew about, it was pigeons.

  Chapter 2

  Danny woke up in the middle of the night, shaking and terrified. He was having the dream
again; the nightmare that haunted him since he came to America. He would be in the middle of a forest. It was late at night and he was all alone. The only things he could he could see in the moonlight were the wavering shadows cast by the trees. They closed in on him like a heavy cloak. The only sounds he could hear were the buzzing and chattering of unknown night creatures. He was looking for his mother but he couldn’t find her. His father was also gone. His sister too. But he desperately continued to search for them.

  There would be the sudden sound of gunfire, then silence. This would be followed by strange wailing voices calling out to him in the night. Danny would run through the woods trying to get away from the terrible noises. But however hard he tried, he couldn’t get away from the heart wrenching sounds in the distance. He would cry out for them to stop, and he would wake himself up.

  By then his Aunt Shirley would be by his bedside. Her soothing voice would calm him down and reassure him that everything would be okay. The dream came about once a week now. But when he first came to America, the dream waited for him every night.

  Only six months earlier Shirley and Max Friedman received an unexpected letter. It was addressed to them in English. But when Max opened the envelope he noticed that the letter was in Russian.

  “My Russian is getting a little rusty,” Max said to Shirley. “You read it and tell me what it says.”

  The letter was from Shirley’s sister, Rivka. She had stayed behind in the small Russian village where they were both born. Rivka hoped to come to America someday. But Hitler came to power and the war broke out. And everything changed.

  “So, tell me what it says,” Max prompted again.

  “It says that if I receive this letter that she is no longer with us,” Shirley paused and put a hand to her mouth. She stood frozen and silent at the news. Max gave her hug, shocked at the news. Shirley took a breath and read on, “and her son Daniel will need our help.” She put the letter down and sobbed.

  “Look,” Max said. “There’s a note in the envelope, and it’s in English.” He picked it up and began reading aloud to Shirley.

  Dearest Relatives of Daniel Simon,

  I am so sorry to have to tell you this. Right now you are the only family Daniel has. Both his parents and his sister were lost to the war. Rivka sewed the letter you received in the lining of his coat. It had your names and address for such an emergency. Daniel showed it to me when I asked him about his family. If you are able to care for Danny his papers are ready for him to be with you in America.

  Again, my deepest sympathy for your loss.

  With very best regards,

  Evi Van der Meer, A Friend

  The return address on the envelope was from Amsterdam, Holland.

  Shirley remembered that warm summer day in June, 1949 when they waited for Danny at Ellis Island. He stood alone with a small bag carrying his belongings, looking malnourished, with the apprehensive eyes of a lost deer in the wilderness. She and Max would gradually nurse him back to health and help him adjust to the unfamiliar new world he just entered.

  ***

  Danny was up earlier than usual; dressed and ready for school. He wanted to see how the bird was doing.

  “So, I see you’re up early this morning,” Aunt Shirley said to him in Yiddish. “What’s going on?”

  “Yeah,” Danny answered in English. “I got some things to do.”

  “You’re picking up English like a sponge,” Aunt Shirley replied.

  “A sponge?” Danny creased his eyebrows together. “Voz iz a sponge?” He asked, mixing his English with Yiddish like he often did when he didn’t know a word.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Aunt Shirley laughed. She enjoyed having him around. Some of the things he did reminded her of Rivka.

  Danny ran the six flights up to the rooftop door. He hesitated before knocking.

  Someone was singing on the roof. It was a deep resonant voice flavored with an Irish lilt.

  As I was a-goin’ over Gilgarra Mountain

  I spied Colonel Farrell, and his money he was countin’.

  First I drew my pistols and then I drew my rapier,

  Sayin’ “Stand and deliver, for I am your bold receiver.”

  Musha ringum duram da,

  Whack fol the daddy-o,

  There’s whiskey in the jar.

  Danny waited for the singing to stop before he knocked.

  Mike Delaney was busy cleaning out the pigeon coop when he heard someone at the door. “Yeah, who’s there?”

  The tone seemed gruff and angry. Danny wondered whether he should be bothering the man, but he wanted to see how the bird was doing. The door opened and Mike Delaney’s large frame filled the doorway.

  “So, it’s you. Danny Simon, it is. I suppose ya want to see your bird.”

  Danny nodded. He was surprised that Mike Delaney even remembered his name.

  “Well then, come in and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  He led Danny to a pigeon coop that took up almost half of the rooftop. It was well designed and sturdily built. Danny could see that Delaney was very proud of what he had.

  “First, we’ll look at the patient. Then I’ll introduce you to my birds.”

  “Some people call this a ‘loft’,” Mike explained. “But I just call it my pigeon coop.”

  The loft was partitioned into different rooms like an apartment building. One door opened and another closed behind Danny as he followed Mike to a small enclosure with a shelf running along the wood paneled wall. A small window let in enough light to see his bird resting in a straw lined box.

  “I usually keep the young birds in here but I figured it would be a good place for him to recuperate.”

  “He looks a lot better than yesterday,” Danny said.

  “Yeah, he’s a feisty one alright. All he needed was a little cleaning up and a little rest. He looks to be a homing pigeon but there’s no band on his leg so I guess he can stay here.”

  Danny looked at the bird and then at Delaney.

  “That is, if you want him to,” Mike said.

  “Oh yes, that would be very good,” Danny replied in his heavily accented English. “Thank you, Mr. Delaney.”

  “Mr. Delaney was my father. You can call me Mike or Delaney. We’ll let your bird rest here for a couple more days. Now, let me show you my boys and girls.”

  Although Delaney had a pronounced limp, Danny had to move fast to keep up with him. They went into the main part of the loft where the pigeons flew freely. It was a large screened area with shelving for the pigeons to perch on. Danny could hear loud cooing and wings beating as they walked into the enclosure. Two birds flew directly onto Delaney’s shoulders.

  “This here is, Isabelle. She’s a princess but a very strong flyer.”

  “And this is Tobey. He’s a flock leader and he keeps the other birds in order.”

  “What does ‘feisty’ mean?” Danny asked.

  “It means he’s strong and spirited. It means not going to give up not matter how hard the going gets.”

  Danny thought for a moment, nodded his head and said, “I think I’ll name him ‘Feisty’ ”.

  “‘Feisty’. Yeah, a good strong name,” Delaney said smiling. “For a good, strong bird.”

  “Can I see him again?”

  “Of course, ya’ can,” Delaney said with laugh. “You can visit anytime. Just knock on the door, like this.” He knocked the first four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony; dah, dah, dah, DAH. “I’ll always be here in the morning and the afternoon. They need plenty of care and feeding, ya know.”

  “Oh, Mr. De…. Uh, Mr. Mike?”

  “Yes?”

  “Those songs you were singing sounded very nice.”

  “Well,” he laughed. “So far, the birds haven’t complained about my singin’.”

  Chapter 3

  Mike Delaney walked over to his bedroom window and peered out into the darkness. It might have been a stray dog or a cat but it got Delaney’s attention. After th
e war, the slightest sound would wake him, so he seldom got any sleep. He would take catnaps during the afternoon, but most nights he would sit by the window waiting for morning. Sleep would only bring reminders of a time he tried to forget.

  In the mornings, he would take care of his pigeons. He would clean the loft, feed the birds, and train them for the upcoming race. Sometimes he sang Irish folk songs to the birds and other times he would recite cowboy poetry to them.

  He welcomed the new bird that was under his care. And he welcomed the visit from Danny.

  ***

  The three troublemakers in Danny’s class sat in the back of the room, huddled together finding ways to annoy, disrupt, and otherwise make things miserable for the other kids in the classroom. The first time Danny walked into his 7th grade homeroom, one of the three boys remarked to the others, “Here comes another greenhorn off the boat!” He said it just loud enough for Danny to hear as he walked over to the teacher. “Let’s show him how we do things here.”

  Although he was picking up English from his aunt, his uncle, the neighbors, and the radio, Danny’s English was still very limited. The teacher simply pointed to a vacant desk and Danny got the idea. He didn’t understand what the boys were saying but he could feel the bite of their tone. Danny had become a new target for them.

  After the pigeon incident, the boys vowed that they would find ways to get even with Danny. They would hound him at any opportunity. And they also had something in store for the old geezer, Delaney. Tommy Vincent bumped into Danny when the dismissal bell rang.

  “You’re gonna be sorry you ever came into this class,” Tommy said with a sneer.

  Danny couldn’t understand why the boy was so angry with him. After all, Danny had never met him or the other boys before. He didn’t know them and they didn’t know him. But he had seen that look before. He had seen it in his own country.

  When the Nazis marched into Grodno, fear had spread through the small village. The place where Danny and his family lived, where everyone knew one another and where everyone kept their doors open, became a fearful and terrifying place. Once, a Nazi soldier approached Danny’s older cousin Hershel and slapped him in the face for no reason, and when Hershel tried to defend himself, the soldier hit him with a rifle butt. Another soldier came and they took Hershel away. Danny never saw him again. After that, he learned to avoid confrontations in Grodno. And now he didn’t want to have such problems in America.