Amerikai Magyar Szó, 1987. január-június (41. évfolyam, 1-25. szám)
1987-06-25 / 25. szám
10. AMERIKAI MAGYAR SZÓ Thursday, June 25. 1987. JOCSAK AND SON XVII. BY JOHN F. GOJACK Sister Pauline reached me at my Indiana home late one evening. I was involved in union organization and worked hundreds of miles away, so did not see Pop often in the early 40's. "Pop was hit by a train and is in St. Elizabeth's Hospital. They don't expect him to live, so you'd better hurry down to see him," Pauline said. I rushed down and into the hospital middle of the night. Pop was under heavy sedation and not able to talk until the next day. The family was there earlier and took turns sitting in his room. From our knowledge of the Pennsy tracks in that area and witnesses' reports of the accident we pieced together the tragedy. Pop' shop was located across town and getting there was a chore of an hour or more. With frequent overtime due to the war effort, Pop did little more than work and sleep. In May of 1944, at sixty- two years of age, he must have felt unduly weary on that fateful day. For years in the 20's and 30's Pop left our house on Summit Street, crossed the bridge and walked another block to the Pennsylvania Railroad. The direct route to Third Street, a major artery with a streetcar line to downtown Dayton, was along the railroad tracks and hundreds of people walked along these tracks each day. The alternative routes, along sidewalks, added two to three blocks to his journey. There were only a few passenger trains daily on this main line of the Pennsy from New York City to St. Louis, with perhaps a few more slower freight trains. About every week there was shuttling of freight cars to service the industries in that area. As kids, we always walked on the smoother pathway between the two main lines and once in a while would have to retreat to the sides to let a passing train go by. Pop always walked on the side or dead tracks, where it was extremely rare for a car to be moving. On a bright May day in 1944, Pop was walking a "dead" track shortly after leaving Summit Street, when unknown to him, a coal car was silently shoved by a switch engine two blocks away, with the switch open to the "dead" track along his path. By the time he heard the low rumble of this monstrous steel car rolling toward his back, he had time only to turn and see it fast approaching him. In turning to check the noise behind him, his heel caught in the tie where the rail is held down by large spikes. With his right foot caught fast, he reached down with his right hand to pull it loose. Too late! He lost most of his right leg and right arm. With heavy loss of blood and severe shock, one doctor said he was fortunate to survive. Pop had the flu in October of 1919, during that epidemic, and a severe case of asthma from years of eating steel and coke fumes, but had never been to a doctor. He weighed 180 pounds and was built as solid as a steel barrel, with not an ounce of fat on his body. It is doubtful that many men of sixty-two could have come out of that ordeal. Except for the handicap of a lost leg and his most important arm, he was, after some months, in excellent health. Following his hospital stay, Pop convalesced at the home of Elizabeth, my eldest sister. He had a pleasant room, marvelous food and the best of care for four years or so. He was emotionally upset and extremely angry at the Pennsylvania äaflrqag?. Pop was never shy about expressing his feelings and when angry used a combination of Hungarian and American profanity that was shocking. The railroad paid for the hospital bills, nothing more. Everybody knew that the railroad was private property and trespassing was at one's own risk. Pop's argument was that there was no sign at the point he walked on railroad property and they were obligated to give notice of a silent car rolling across a street and down the track. Pop repeated his grievance to anyone who would listen and this went on for years. I did visit a large liability law firm and explained the accident. They lost no time in saying that Pop had no case. In today's legal climate, and with smarter lawyers around, I believe that Pop would have a case for substantial damages, and win in a jury trial. Finally, after four years of loving care, it became clear that Pop could not stay at my sister's forever. The family shopped around for a convalescent or rest home. Some were horrible, others frightfully expensive. We worked out a plan to share costs, and while checking out private facilities, learned of the Montgomery County Chronic Patients' Hospital. Almost new, well-designed on one floor, with rooms off a large lobby area, the latest equipment and a large staff, this was better than anything else in town. Pop moved in and immediately established a pleasant base for himself. There were older Hungarian patients he knew and he made other friends quickly. While living and working many miles away, it developed that I was the only member of the family that could handle visits with Pop. The others could not take the profane tirades and charges that they were doing nothing to get the railroad into court. It was not difficult taking on the responsibility of visiting Pop after he drove the rest of the family off. While doing union work mainly in Indiana and Michigan, my children were living near Dayton as a result of a recent divorce. Almost weekly I picked them up and brought them to the home of my youngest sister Pauline for the weekend. This made it easy to visit Pop which I did almost weekly. His yelling and cursing about the injustice he suffered was not a problem for me at its worst. In the labor movement I learned to quietly wait out tirades from angry employers, lawyers, or other labor people during sharp disputes. Anyone treating Pop poorly in the hospital felt his vituperative language, and either made friends with him by better behavior, or stayed away from him. While in the first hospital, he complained to me of a young priest insisting on spending time at his bedside because Pop was registered as a Catholic. I suggested that he simply tell the priest that he was in severe pain and would rather not have him stop by. Next visit when I asked if the priest was staying away, Pop said, "Sure", explaining that "soon as he came in the door next time, I asked how many nuns he was sleeping with." Apparently the young priest was so embarrassed that he bolted out the door and never came back. Pop knew the shock value of unusually strong language. When Pop was admitted to the Chronic Patients' Hospital on November 2, 1948, I never dreamed his remaining years would be as pleasant as they were and especially that he would live another seventeen years. My feeling is that after our mother died in 1920, his happiest days were in that hospital. They were certainly his most comfortable and easy days. Pop never really tried to use the artificial limbs they gave him. He managed short distances with the aid of a crutch, and with a wheelchair in the second hospital, he rarely used the crutch, preferring the swifter mobility. With his strong left hand and arm, he could reach what he needed for personal care. In the wheelchair, he would tour all of the permissible areas of the hospital, chatting with friends and checking out all activity. One weekend he was blue, which was rare- for Pop, and mentioned missing his favorite nurse. She was a nice-looking lady about fifty who went out of her way to be helpful to him. Originally from Kentucky or Tennessee, that made her a "hillbilly" in those days in Dayton. I pressed Pop about her, sensing a possible romance on his part. It was, of a sort. Seems she learned that Pop liked a little whiskey, especially in his coffee in the mornings. At her own expense and trouble, she had been sneaking in a small medicine bottle of liquor to Pop almost every day. This impressed me. On a ruse of thanking her for the excellent care of Pop, I persuaded someone in the office to give me her phone number and address and went directly to her home. In her modest, neat house, not far from the hospital, she was taking care of her daughter's three-year-old and providing housing for both. How she did all that and furnished daily whiskey rations to Pop on her meagre salary was a miracle itself. "Thanks a lot for the extra care you're giving my father. He's gone through hell and needs all the attention he can get. He likes you very much," I said. "It's a real pleasure to take care of h»m. He appreciates anything I can do to make his life easier and he's a lot of fun to be around." I excused myself to run a short errand to the bar where brother Andy was Dayton's most generous bartender. I bought two bottles of Old Grandad, Pop's favorite, and told Andy to run a tab for that lady any time she wanted more Old Grandad, and hold the bill for me. To be continued Or. GERGELY ANNA BELGYÓGYÁSZ SZAKORVOS korházi affiliációval (magas vérnyomás, cukorbetegse'g, szív, , tüdő, máj, gyomor és egyéb megbetegedések) Teljes kivizsgálás. Rendelés: előzetes bejelentésre hétfő, szerda: délután 3.30 - 6 óráig kedd, péntek: délelőtt 9 - 1 óráig 330 E 79th St, # 1-D New York, N.Y. 10021 (1st és 2nd A ve. kozott) Tel.: (212) 737-0370 Medicare-t ás privát biztosítást elfogadok
