Saints and Sinners

Concerning Competitions

Saints and Sinners written by Margaret Wrong

A Peep at the Art Galeries

From The Canadian Forum, October 1920, p. 18

Mr. Alfred Banbury felt himself to be a philanthropic Atlas bearing on his shoulders the charitable institution of a large city. There passed- through the ofifice of the Charity Organization Society, Where he presided, an endless procession of social workers and the material on which they worked. Mr. Banbury assigned the workers to the material after a personal examination of the case (Mr. Banbury's world was filled with cases, not with individuals). Many social workers regarded his words as law and all were constrained to listen to them with outward respect. From the sinner and the unfortunate, he required submission to his will, a submission, the more profound because the sense of his own importance left no room for a sense of humour. Mr. Banbury had discovered the ultimate truth about the social order and he expected others to act on his revelation of it. According to him the only salvation for the sinner and the unfortunate lay in the ministration of officials, like himself, who would instruct and guide them. An irreverent student was heard to remark at the close of Mr. Banbury's well known lecture on Charity Organization Work: "God might learn something from Mr. Banbury and Mr. Banbury would be glad to teach him."-

It was unfortunate that Mrs. Sorofsky crossed Mr. Banbury's path, for submission was not characteristic of her, nor did she believe in the ministrations of officials, whose omniscience in her experience had baleful results. Rather than practice submission in Russia she had decided to move her family to America where she heard that officials were the slaves, not the masters, of the people. She had, therefore, tied the family possessions in bundles adapted to the size of herself, Paul and the four children, had bestowed Paul's earnings about her capacious person and had at length boarded a steamer bound for the New World. A pounding screw, choppy seas and crowded quarters did not conquer her. Before many hours had passed she was looking after derelict children as well as her own, admonishing them loudly, yet tending them carefully, until such time as their natural guardians appeared above decks.

Mrs. Sorofsky knew no English when she sailed, but when the ship passed through the straits of Belle Isle she watched the towering icebergs purple against the setting sun and the blue coast line beyond and exclaimed "damn fine" with the assurance of a deck hand. At Quebec she gathered her flock about her and presented an imposing front to the immigration officers. After a prolonged and intimate search in the secret parts of her apparel she proved her solvency, but, when confronted by a portentous list of questions printed in many tongues, she shook her fist in the officer's face exclaiming: "Son of a gun, no understand damn stuff." The official, in the manner of his kind, shouted in return and Mrs. Sorofsky repeated her remark at the top of her powerful lungs. A stirring scene followed, but Mrs. Sorofsky at last marched triumphantly down the gangway and into the immigration sheds, her belief in the power of the expletives she had acquired confirmed past all dispute. Officials should be kept in their places in America.

The first winter taxed Mrs. Sorofsky's powers to the uttermost. Paul could not find work; the children were ill; the crazy cottage, where the family had found shelter, admitted both rain and snow and the climax was reached when a new baby came and proved to be twins. It was at this point that Mr. Banbury, the omniscient official, made acquaintance of Mrs. Sorofsky or, to use his phraseology, began to work on the Sorofsky case.

His impressions were unfavourable. The atmosphere of the cottage was too rich for his taste and Mrs. Sorofsky refused to unnail a window; the family was larger than any family in such circumstances should be; the tongue of Mrs. Sorofsky was loud and profane; he suspected her of intemperance and of bullying her husband, and children. After much investigation Mr. Banbury arranged that $2.00 should be advanced by a local charity for milk for the children. Mrs. Sorofsky refused the money and told him that the day before a "fat beautiful lady" from the settlement had advanced enough money for two month's rent. Mr. Banbury remembered the worker as one who had smiled without cause during his lectures. He catalogued her as indiscreet and interfering and Mrs. Sorofsky as an undesirable alien and left the house. Mrs. Sorofsky shook her fist at his back and catalogued him as an inquisitive son of a gun who must be shown his place.

Mr. Banbury's opinion did not change when Mrs. Sorofsky moved into a large and more air tight dwelling where she took an indefinite number of roomers and paid her debt to the "fat and beautiful lady" out of the rent she received from them. Success was no substitute for a becoming submission to authority and Mr. Banbury hinted that pride concealed crime and heralded a fall.

The next encounter between Mr. Banbury and Mrs. Sorofsky was in the height of summer. Mrs. Sorofsky was washing in her basement. Through the area door came the noises and the heat of the streets; even the children had taken refuge in the shadow of the houses and were waiting, listlessly, for night to dispel the shimmering haze. Suddenly a [p. 19] door burst open and two men fell on to the pavement in a close embrace. The one on top had begun to beat his opponent's head on the flagstones when Mrs. Sorofsky reached the scene of action, "You kill him", she cried and seizing the feet of the aggressor, she pulled so mightily that he loosened his grip and turned on her. His tipsy onslaught made no impression on Mrs. Sorofsky's monumental bulk. She bestowed his head beneath her arm as Mr. Banbury and a policeman elbowed their way through the crowd.

Here was confirmation of Mr. Banbury's suspicion. The woman fought and the man was drunk therefore the woman was probably drunk too. He told the officer he had better arrest them both. The crowd in union, explained the situation but the voice of Mrs. Sorofsky rose above the din, "He fight; he kill man; I stop him; I give him you", she said and handed her captive to the officer with a magnificient gesture. Then, fixing her eye on Mr. Banbury, she exclaimed "You know noddings at all, you son of a gun". Whereupon she elbowed her way back to her washing, leaving the laughing crowd to explain the situation. Mr. Banbury hated to be laughed at.

Mrs. Sorofsky was always taking part in domestic upheavals and running counter to Mr. Banbury in her efforts to benefit the community. On one occasion two of her roomers fell out, he being in drink. Having beaten his wife unmercifully he was taken to jail and she to the hospital. Mrs. Sorofsky insisted on keeping the two children with her own and would not let Mr. Banbury send them to a home. "I plenty trouble," she declared, "but not that. Paul behave to me with love, he do." "He better," she added thoughtfully. "I keep these children, you mind your business Mr. Banbury."

A time came, however, when Mrs. Sorofsky's capacity for adopting other people's children was exhausted and she called on Mr. Banbury to relieve her of a baby left by a woman roomer who went out to work one morning and never returned. Mrs. Sorofsky kept the child for three weeks hoping that the mother might re-appear. At the end of that time she said the baby must go to a home. "He drink milk, much milk: for rich that noddings, but me poor. He cry nights, twins cry nights, he cry more: I no sleep: I soon sick." Mr. Banbury paid many visits and asked many questions but the baby was left with Mrs. Sorofsky, pending a case in court which was postponed because a lawyer who knew something of the matter, was taking a holiday. On the occasion of Mr. Banbury's sixth visit Mrs. Sorofsky met him at the door with the announcement that she wanted no more visitors "who talked with their mouths and did noddings." He should take the baby away with him if he dared to call again.

About this time Mrs. Sorofsky discovered irregularities on the part of two of her roomers which warranted instant dismissal from a respectable house. The woman in the case, longing for revenge, went to Mr. Banbury and told him that Mrs. Sorofsky was a bad woman. Mr. Banbury, delighted to have his suspicions confirmed, made no further enquiries but called on the Sorofsky's that evening. The rest of the story is best told as Mrs. Sorofsky told it to the "fat and beautiful lady."

"Paul he have supper; I give him spoon, bowl, soup, all things; Banbury he come. He say, 'Sorofsky, your wife bad woman, very bad woman'. Paul he say noddings. He stand up. He take spoon, bowl, soup; he throw all at Banbury. He throw straight and Banbury all over soup. I stand up; I say 'Paul stop, you waste good soup. Banbury, you go home; I send Paul see you when he not mad. He no talk sense when he mad'. Then baby cry and I think things quick, I say 'son of a gun take baby now'. He say 'no' I say 'yes' and he do". Mrs. Sorofsky smiled and sighed "I sorry for baby but I poor" she said.

Mrs. Sorofsky's story was confirmed by the neighborhood. A gang of small boys had seen Mr. Banbury leave the house carrying the baby and followed by Mrs. Sorofsky's voice. They had formed a procession and conducted him to the corner singing a lullaby. There a policeman bore down upon them and they scattered. Since that time Mr. Banbury has not been seen in the neighborhood.

Mr. Banbury's version of the story has not been made public but his new lecture on "Revolutionary elements in a city community" may throw some light on the matter. It seems likely that his preference for the submissive sinner may prevent his doing justice to the eccentric saint.

Margaret Wrong