Little Mickey was wiping the bar clean while inside his saloon. People called him Little Mickey. There wasn’t too much of a reason for it. Someone had call that once, and the nickname stuck. At least his family, which would be his wife, his children, and his brothers and sisters, still called him Michael. No one else did, though.

Regarding this saloon, it was his, inherited from his father, and home to his family. It wasn’t the best place to raise children, but he had never had a choice on the matter. Right now, the saloon was as busy as ever. There were men coming through the door looking for a good time, and a different time from that which they got from the “disorderly houses” with the “ladies of the evening.” Here, they came for food and drink, and Little Mickey made sure that their wishes were sated. That was, after all, how he came about his money.

There were a little less than a dozen people who were working under Little Mickey. There were three waitress, each of them being spirited young women. Cleret, a Jewish girl, had been there the longest, as she had been hired a whole seven years ago, when she was only fifteen. Little Mickey didn’t tell his patrons she was a Jew and they were none the wiser. Then there was Edith, an Irishwoman who had been there only three years. Lastly there was Eva, an Italian girl who had only showed up a year ago. 

Waitresses seemed to come and go, except for Cleret, who seemed to have no qualms about staying. It wasn’t exactly the greatest life, so they often saw themselves out as soon as that was a possibility. The waitresses were popular with the patrons, as Little Mickey always made sure that they were pretty. They were always good with warming up the patrons. Right now they were hard at work, serving the patrons food and drink with pretty smiles and a friendly personality. 

Then there was the band. There was about five of them, each of them playing some instrument. Little Mickey didn’t know anything about music, and certainly not American music, but he did realize that the band seemed to do their job well. If they didn’t attract patrons, they certainly help keep them there. They helped keep the saloon even livelier, and Little Mickey saw that his patrons seemed to appreciate a little music.

Little Mickey walked towards one of the new customers. He had never seen him before, and Cleret confirmed that he was indeed a new man. In turned out that he was a Swede, and he could speak English. Little Mickey took a seat beside him. He put up the appearance of the kindly owner of the saloon, wanting to help a helpless man in a strange new world. The Swede had his free meal up in front of him. It was a smoked herring, pickled oysters, pretzels, and rye bread and sausage. It came free once you bought your first drink, and it was hoped you would buy many more drinks to make up for the costs. This free meal was one of the key elements of patronage in Little Mickey’s saloon, his own greatest contribution to the Combination.

“Why, hello there, sir,” Little Mickey said. “Having a good meal?”

“Yes, actually,” the Swede said. “It’s all so very kind. I could never get something like this for free back in the Old World.”

“Why, you’ll have to thank my friend for that,” Little Mickey said. “How have you been of late, sir.”

“Well, things could’ve gone better,” the Swede said. “I came to America, for higher wages, a better life for me and my family, you understand. But we didn’t like New York, and Harrisburg wasn’t much better, you see. So I thought that I might strike my luck here, yet I really don’t know. I’ve been feeling rather foolish, and maybe I would’ve been better just staying back at Sölvesborg.”

“Nonsense, my good sir,” Little Mickey said. “Now, I understand what it is when a man’s down on his luck, let me tell you. However, there’s this friend of mine, have a mentioned him before?”

“A bit,” the Swede said.

“Well, let me tell you a bit more,” Little Mickey said. “I’ve got friends, plenty of friends. They’ll  get you a job and home faster than you could ever hope. Now, that meal you’ve got in front of you, it’s all because of them that you’ve got it.”

And Little Mickey told the Swede all he would need to know. The Swede would have a stable job, a home for him and his family, and he’d be a loyal member of the Combination. He pointed him in the right direction, and soon higher people in the machine would be working to make sure this Swede was taken care of. This was Little Mickey’s real job, the job he had to do. He hoped he never would see a day when he was on the Combination’s bad side. 

Little Mickey’s oldest youngest brother Otto then came in, holding a newspaper in his hand. He grabbed Little Mickey’s shoulder, indicating that he need his attention. Little Mickey got up and excused himself, telling the Swede to enjoy and finish his meal. He and his brother went in the back to the bar, where Edith was bartending.

“Michael, have you heard?” Otto said.

“Heard what?” Little Mickey said.

“About the murders,” Otto said.

“What murders?” Little Mickey said.

“There’s been a collection of murders, Michael,” Otto said. “It was…Ladies of the Evening…”

“What, whores’ have been murdering folks?” Little Mickey said.

“No, they’re the ones being murdered,” Otto said.

“What, and it isn’t even Friday yet,” Little Mickey said.

Otto sighed, “Listen, Michael. Gerold was with one of them-”

“I’ll have to give him a stern what-with then,” Little Mickey said. “It’s no good to be doing that. It’s immoral.”

“While true, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Otto said. “He was with the prostitute not long before she died, maybe just hours. Now it’s all he can talk about, saying he could’ve done something about it, that he could’ve saved her.”

“Ah hell,” Little Mickey said. “Well, that’s just youthful sentimentality talking. I’ll take care of it, and I’ll talk to Gerold.”

“Right,” Otto said. “Good. Listen, I’ve got something else to do, so I’ll see you later.

And, just as sure as he had said, Otto left then and there. Otto had never been very close to Little Mickey. He resented the fact that he was a loyal member of the Combination. Otto, on the other hand, acted like a Hecker partisan, intent on overthrowing the old order in favor of whatever it was that the socialists had wanted. He was still his brother, though, and they loved each other all the same. Best of all, he knew how to read in English.

“Cleret,” Little Mickey said.

“Yes sir?” Cleret said.

“Take care of the place,” Little Mickey said. “I’m going to step out for a moment.”

“Yessir,’ Cleret said.