The Dead Baby Story
harlie Largent was worried when he entered First National Bank of Staten Island on Monday
morning. He asked the receptionist for directions and then knocked on Mr. Angelo's open door.
When he saw the brass name plate with the title 'President' below it, he was intimidated even more.
Mr. Angelo was sitting at his desk, his gray hair perfectly combed, his pin-striped three piece suit
without a wrinkle in it, holding a telephone to his ear. He nodded to Charlie while he resumed his
conversation. Charlie waited outside, not wishing to intrude on the top man's privacy.
"Come in, Charlie," Mr. Angelo said as he hung up the phone.
"Hello, Mr. Angelo," Charlie said, taking off his baseball cap.
"Hello, Charlie. Have a seat," Mr. Angelo answered, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. They did not shake hands. That was a bad sign.
Charlie sat rigidly, waiting for the first blow.
"Charlie, I'm surprised we're having a problem so soon."
"So am I, Mr. Angelo."
"You've only owned the building, what, 3 months now?"
"Yes, sir."
"And already you missed a mortgage payment. That's not good, Charlie."
"I know sir. But I couldn't help it. First, I had to replace the hot- water heater. Then, the wiring in the basement shorted out, then ...."
"Charlie," Mr. Angelo interrupted, holding his hand up, "every business has it's problems. A good businessman solves his problems, and goes on."
"Yes, sir."
"When will you have the payment, Charlie?"
"By next week, assuming everyone who owes me rent pays up."
"How many tenants owe you rent, Charlie?"
"About half."
"Half?! Charlie, out of 50 apartments, you should have, at most, perhaps 5 tenants that are late with the rent. Not 25."
"I know sir. But they have good reasons why ...."
"Charlie, anyone who has a good reason to borrow should have good reason to pay it back. Where do you think this bank would be if we allowed half of our loan customers to stop paying because they have a good reason? They all have good reasons, Charlie. And we listen patiently to their reasons, and then we take strong action anyway. Charlie, you have loan customers, too. Only, instead of loaning money, you loan your customers your apartments. And then, each month, and they have to pay back the loan with rent."
"Yes, sir."
"Charlie, the previous owners of that apartment building are long-time friends of mine. They asked me for my opinion of you before they sold you their building and took back a mortgage to finance the purchase. They trusted my judgment. I don't let people down who put their trust in me. Do you, Charlie?"
"No sir."
"They put me in charge of collecting their mortgage payments, Charlie, when I vouched for you. And I did vouch for you. I told them, '"Charlie may be a young man ...'" What are you, 28?"
"29, sir."
"28, 29, whatever. You're under 30, and that's young to be owning a large apartment building. I told them, '" I know his family and he comes from hard working and tough stock. Even though he's a plumber, he saved up $18,000 on his own for the down payment. He'll learn what he needs to know to make the building pay off."'
Mr. Angelo stopped and looked sharply at Charlie. "Did I misjudge you, Charlie?"
"No sir."
"I hope not, Charlie. Because I had a long talk with the former owners, and they instructed me to institute foreclosure proceedings if you don't make up the mortgage payment soon. By soon, they meant within a week or two. I can tell you if we do foreclose, and the owners take the building back, we won't tolerate any excuses about the rents from those tenants. They'll either pay, or we'll put them out in the street. Do we understand one another, Charlie?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Angelo. I should have the money before this week is out sir, and it will never happen again."
"I hope so, Charlie. I don't like having these kinds of talks Charlie."
"No, sir. Me neither."
The phone rang, and Mr. Angelo picked it up and answered. Charlie stood up and left after Mr. Angelo nodded to him that he was dismissed.
Charlie left the bank feeling like a fool, and he didn't like that feeling at all. He drove directly back to his building, swearing at himself and his deadbeat tenants. There was no way he was going to lose his building, The Benziger Apartments. He sweated eight years of overtime to save up the $18,000 downpayment. For eight long years, it was hand-me down clothes for his two children, no nights out or vacations with his wife, and a ratty, broken down old van for himself. He was not throwing those eight years of sacrifice in the Hudson River. No, he wasn't.
When Charlie arrived at his little office in the basement of the building, he opened the desk drawer and got out his eviction forms. He filled in the names of the tenants who had not paid him, and then went upstairs and knocked on their doors.
"Charlie, what is this?" Mrs. Spinoza asked. She had her hair tied up and hidden by a bandanna, and the smell of Italian food wafted out her door.
"It's an eviction notice, Mrs. Spinoza. I need the rent."
"Charlie, I told you we had some surprise bills this month. The mister's car broke down and then the insurance came in ...."
"Mrs. Spinoza, I understand all that, but I still need the rent. I have some surprise bills of my own."
"Charlie, you're not going to make friends with us this way."
"Mrs. Spinoza, maybe that's so, but I still need the rent. And I need it by Friday, or you have to move out."
"You'll get it!" Mrs. Spinoza said, turning angry and closing the door behind her.
Mr. Hernandez was next. Charlie knocked six times before the door was opened. Juan Hernandez answered in his boxer shorts, scratching himself, and yawning.
"Yes, Mr. Charlie," Juan greeted him.
"Here, Juan," Charlie said, handing him the notice with the big bold capital letters that said 'EVICTION'.
"What is this, Mr. Charlie?"
"Its a paper that says you have to pay me the rent by Friday or move out."
"Mr. Charlie, why you wake me up like this? You know I work nights. I say you gonna get your rent, and you gonna. I just a little short this month."
"Juan, I'm a little short this month, too. Only its with the bank. And it's not because I bought a new wide screen tv like you. It's because tenants like you haven't paid me. Now you either pay me when you get paid on Friday, or you have to leave. Do you understand?"
"I unnerstand.You'll get your money!" Juan said, slamming the door.
"By Friday, Juan." Charlie said through the door.
"You get your money!" Juan said back.
Charlie went up and down the halls, knocking on doors. The tenants that were home got the same unyielding response from Charlie, "Pay up or leave!". The tenants that weren't home got a notice taped to their door, with the big bold letters 'EVICTION' on it, which embarrassed them in front of their neighbors when they returned home to find it. Charlie lost a lot of friends, but he gained respect.
The last door Charlie knocked on was Sally Johnson's.
Sally Johnson was a 19 year old, single mother with two children. Sally Johnson was 'on welfare'. Being 'on welfare' meant the City of New York gave her $450 per month toward rent, utilities, clothes, and various other needs. Her rent and utilities amounted to $475 each month, but the resulting deficit is beside the point. Sally Johnson was also given $250 per month in 'food stamps' by the Federal Government. She took these little green stamps to the local supermarket and exchanged them, just like money, for food. Her family's food needs were $275 per month, but that resulting deficit is also besides the point.
Sally Johnson had a working boyfriend named Michael Simpson, whom she hid from the Welfare Department. Charlie knew about Michael, and chose to ignore it. Charlie was a practical man, and he knew it was impossible for some of his poorer tenants to survive without cutting some moral corners along the way. What Charlie also knew, and could not ignore, was the fact he had not been paid his rent even though the Welfare Department sent Sally her check each month like clockwork.
Sally answered the door after the fifteenth knock. It was one o'clock in the afternoon, and she came to the door wearing flannel pajamas.
"Yeah, Mr. Largent. What do you want?" she asked, yawning, with a slightly testy attitude because she had just been woken up.
Before Charlie answered, he noticed Sally's belly protruding from her pajamas. She looked like she swallowed a small beach ball.
"Sally, are you pregnant again?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah," she answered.
"Well, congratulations! Where is the father so I can shake his hand?" he asked, truly happy for her.
"He's out."
"Tell Michael congratulations when you see him."
"I ain't gonna tell Michael nothing cause I ain't gonna see him."
"Why not?"
"Cause I ain't letting him back in here, that's why."
"Oh," Charlie said, worried.
"He lost his job three weeks ago."
"That's a shame."
"That's the reason you haven't been paid the rent."
"What about the welfare check?" Charlie asked.
"That no good man took my check."
"Yeah, but he couldn't cash it. It's made out to you."
"Well, he forged he forged my signature, and cashed it anyway."
"He can go to jail for that," Charlie warned her.
"He's already in jail."
"He is?"
"Not for the check. For beating me."
"Beating you?! But you're pregnant!"
"Didn't stop him none."
"Why did he hit you?"
"Cause I got mad at him for cashing my check and buying cocaine with it."
"I didn't know he had a drug problem, Sally."
"Me neither, till I saw him in the bathroom, snorting that stuff up his nose."
"So he got high, and then hit you?"
"No. He got high and went out. Soon as he left, I found the rest of his stuff, and flushed it down the toilet."
"Good for you Sally," Charlie cheered.
"No, it wasn't good for me. When Michael come back, he went looking for his cocaine, and when he can't find it, he ask me, did I see it. I said, yes I seen it. And he say, well where is it then. And I say, I flushed it down the toilet. Well, he pitched a fit and started punching walls and kicking doors. Then he punched me."
"He punched you?!" Charlie repeated, shocked and angry.
"Right in the stomach. He hit me so hard he knocked me down."
"But you're pregnant!"
"Not no more."
"What do you mean?"
"Soon as he hit me, I called the Police. They come and took him off to jail, and brought me to the hospital. Doctors took tests. They say I'm carrying a dead baby."
"That's terrible!?" Charlie said, feeling like the devil himself holding the 'EVICTION' notice.
"Doctors say anyday now I'm gonna pass this dead baby."
"Sally, I'm so sorry."
"Doctors ain't sure if I can have no more children, neither. That man may have ruined me for that."
Charlie paused a long moment before he changed the subject.
"Well, what are we gonna do?" he began softly.
"About what?"
"About the rent," Charlie said so low you could barely hear him. He felt low for asking.
"Told you I ain't got the rent money. He spent it all."
"Can you go to welfare for it?"
"Nope. Already asked. They say they ain't giving me no extra money."
"So what are you going to do?"
"What can I do?"
"Can you pay me back next month?"
"I can pay you next month for next month. Without a working man, welfare don't hardly pay enough to live on, let alone pay back what's owed."
"Well, what are you going to do?"
"Didn't I just tell you?"
Sensing he was going around in circles, Charlie introduced a new point.
"Doesn't your mother live around here?" he asked.
"Yeah, about a block away. Now don't go thinking I can ask her for the money, because I already done that, and she already said no."
"Actually, Sally, I was thinking we should move you over to your mother's place. I'll get some guys to help. I'll use your security deposit for the month you owe me. Then I can get your apartment rerented for next month - I won't lose out, and you won't lose out."
"My mother already got a full house with every room taken."
"Do you have any other family you can go to?"
"Not around here."
"Look Sally, I don't want to put you out on the street."
"So let me slide for a month."
"I can't do that. I need the rent money to pay my bills. If I let you slide, all the other tenants will want to slide."
"All the other tenants ain't asking. I'm asking."
"Look, Sally, this is not getting anywhere," Charlie countered. "It seems the only logical thing to do is to have you move over to your mother's."
"Logical to who, Mr. Largent? Me, or you?"
"Sally, it boils down to your Mom's, or the street. I need a paying tenant, so I can pay my bills, and you aren't a paying tenant anymore. I hate saying that, but it's true."
"If you hate saying it, they why are you?" she countered.
"Sally, you have to choose," Simon said, holding up the 'EVICTION' notice.
Sally thought a long while. Finally she answered, "My Mom's ... I guess."
"Good choice, Sally. I'll get some help, and we'll move you over."
"If you say so, Mr. Largent."
"How soon can you be packed?" Charlie asked.
"About two weeks. Maybe three."
"Two weeks! Sally, I need it back sooner!"
"I ain't so good at packing with this big belly and this dead baby inside."
Charlie's own belly did a flip-flop at the thought of the lifeless baby.
"Okay, Sally, how about a week from now, we move you out? I'll bring some boxes, and whatever you haven't packed, we'll pack for you," he offered.
"Okay, I guess."
"Okay, then. It's settled. I'll be back next Monday morning, and we'll move you."
"Whoa, there, Mr. Largent. Forget mornings. Come back about this time in the afternoon."
"Sally, I'll have to pay the men overtime then."
"I'm carrying a dead baby. Takes me time to get up."
"Okay, we'll be here right after lunch."
Sally nodded her head, and went back inside her apartment. Charlie tore up the 'EVICTION' notice, and went on his way.
The following days were busy for Charlie. Tenants were constantly knocking on his door, giving him fifty dollars here , and $100 there. Everyone paid him something, and promised the rest by the following payday. Charlie received barely enough to make his mortgage payment. He and his family had very little to live on until the next month.
On the following Monday, after lunch, Charlie was not in the best spirits. He had a lunch that consisted of a balogna sandwich, and a glass of water. It was the same cheap balogna he had been eating for almost 2 weeks, and the same lousy city water he had been drinking for almost 2 weeks. At one o'clock, he knocked on Sally's door , with two men along side of him he had to pay 50 bucks apiece to help her move.
Sally answered the door after the twentieth knock. She was wearing the same flannel pajamas.
"Yeah, Mr. Largent. What do you want?" she asked, yawning, with a very testy attitude. She obviously had been awakened again by Charlie.
Before Charlie answered, he noticed Sally's belly was still protruding from her pajamas. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, or poor memory, because her stomach looked like it was slightly inflated.
"Are you ready, Sally?" Charlie asked.
"Ready for what?" she asked.
"To move to your mother's. I have the men here to help you."
"I ain't moving out," she said, getting testier.
"But ... but ... we agreed. Last week," Charlie sputtered. The two men looked at each other and shook their heads knowingly.
"Yeah, well, I changed my mind," Sally answered.
"Sally, do you want me to evict you?" Charlie asked. "Do you want me to put you out in the street?"
"You do what you got to do!" Sally answered, closing the door in Charlie's face.
Charlie evicted Sally Johnson.
Six months later, Charlie met Sally on the street. She was holding a beautiful little baby girl, dressed in a cute pink dress with pink bows in her hair.
Charlie then turned to the tenant he was telling The Dead Baby Story to and said, "The little darling was smiling and talking baby- talk. She was so sweet and innocent. She didn't know she was supposed to be dead, and I didn't have the heart to tell her."
Charlie ended the story to his new tenants that way. They understood the point of the story, and rarely offered any lame excuses after that for not having the rent.
Charlie used The Dead Baby Story as a tool, much like a plumber uses a wrench, to separate the truth from fiction when it came to accepting excuses from tenants as to why the rent is not paid. Charlie was fortunate to find such a tool early-on in his career as a landlord. Charlie told all his tenants, before they signed a lease and rented an apartment, that the only justification that would allow a postponement in an eviction were if that excuse were better than The Dead Baby Story. Charlie further advised his prospective tenants that if they could come up with a superior plea to The Dead Baby Story, Charlie would abate any late penalties and charges. In the case of an inferior excuse, Charlie would politely listen, and then an eviction would be ordered anyway.
Charlie did not volunteer to tell The Dead Baby Story. He merely mentioned the title. Human nature being what it is, every tenant asked to be told the story, upon hearing just the title. If Charlie were in a coy mood, which he sometimes was, he offered to defer the telling of the story for another time. The tenants would then plead with him to tell the story. Charlie was a pleasant fellow, and he obliged his audience. He told the story the same way every time. There was no need for embellishment, because the story was a simple, yet profound work of art.
But, dear reader, that was not the complete story. There was more to the ending of the story, and this ending Charlie never shared with a tenant. He shared it with me, his closest friend, and I will share it with you, now.
After Sally slammed the door in Charlie's face, Charlie went down to his office steaming mad. He paid the moving men the last $100 in his checking account, and when they left, he filled out an eviction notice. He was so mad, he broke the pen he was writing with because he was pressing so hard. Then Charlie went back up to Sally's apartment and taped it to the door. When he turned around and walked away, he heard the door open, and the notice get ripped off. He heard a female voice mutter some curses under her breath. When he turned back around to look, Sally was gone, and there was a pile of torn paper in front of her door. Charlie left it there.
Charlie discovered the Staten Island court system was clogged with eviction lawsuits. It took Charlie two months to get his case heard by a judge. When it was heard by that judge, Sally was represented by an attorney, and Charlie was not. Charlie decided not to pay $500 to hire an attorney for such an open-and-shut case. Sally got a free attorney from the New York City Office of Legal Aid because she was poor. Sally's free attorney plied the judge's sympathy, and Sally was allowed extra time to move. It took Charlie five months to finally evict Sally Johnson and get control back of her apartment. Charlie lost $2,000 in unpaid rent, court costs, and moving expenses.
Charlie did meet Sally six months later. He was walking on the street, and Sally was coming toward him from the opposite direction. The old sidewalk was narrow, and Sally was pushing a worn-out second-hand baby carriage.
As they approached, they did not avoid each other.
"How are you doing, Mr. Largent?" Sally began.
"All right, " Charlie responded coldly.
"Ain't she sweet?" Sally said, pointing to her baby.
"Yeah, sure," Charlie answered.
"Named her Michelle. After her daddy."
"Yeah, sure," Charlie repeated.
"Her daddy's out of jail now, living with us. We got an apartment two blocks down, over on Bismark Street. He's clean now, too. He's looking for a job."
"That's nice," Charlie said with no feeling.
"Mr. Largent, you holding a grudge against me?"
"How am I supposed to feel, Sally? Your lies and legal tricks cost me $2,000!"
"But, Mr. Largent, what was I supposed to do?"
"Live up to our agreement."
"Mr. Largent, I couldn't. My mom wouldn't take me in."
"Why not?"
"She said, "You made your bed, girl, now you sleep in it. I ain't giving you mine."
"Why should I believe you now?"
"Look, Mr. Largent. I got no reason to lie now."
"Maybe."
"Tell me, what was I supposed to do? I had no place to go. So I saved up the money I didn't pay you, and used it for our next apartment. I know you would have been better off giving me that free rent for a month. I asked you to do that, Mr. Largent. You said no, so I did what I had to do."
Charlie tried to hold back, but his anger surfaced red-hot.
"Oh Sally, this is all a crock! You lied and cheated me. The same as you lie and cheat the welfare department. You live your life by lies and cheating. You belittled the pain that women feel who really lose a child. My mother had two miscarriages, and she was never the same afterwards. I hope you're proud of yourself. You ruined it for the next tenant who will really need help, because I'm not going to believe her!"
Sally looked directly into Charlie's eyes while her own anger seethed.
"You still ain't learned nothing, have you?!" Sally shouted. "You got to give people the benefit of the doubt until they prove themselves wrong!"
"That's easy for you to say, Sally. It doesn't cost you anything. You get free rent, free food, and free lawyers. I'm the fool that pays for your benefit of the doubt!"
"Oh yeah, I get free everything, Mr. Largent. I got three kids to raise, and a man living with me who is worse than a kid. That man did take my rent money, and he did punch me around for flushin' his drugs, and he did go to jail. I lied about the dead baby because I needed help from you, and I didn't think you'd give it to me any other way."
"Sure, Sally."
"Look, I don't care if you believe me or not. It's the truth. It's also the truth I can't get a job that pays enough to take care of the rent, and allows me to put my kids in daycare while I'm out working. So yeah, I take welfare. You seen how I live. Do you want to live that way? Do you want your kids to grow up that way?"
Charlie stared at Sally, still angry, but with nothing to say.
"Seems to me, Mr. Largent, you're the lucky one. You get to decide who to let slide, and who to come down hard on. Me, well, I'm never going to own any apartment building. I'm never going to decide which tenant stays and which tenant goes. I won't never have the chance to be lied to. The only decision I'm ever gonna make is which bill to put off, and which one can't be put off. You think I got it so good, then you change with me, and I'll change with you. Then we'll see who the fool is here."
Their discussion was interrupted by Michelle waking up and crying. Sally picked her up out of the carriage and held her until she was quieted.
"You want to hold her?" she said, holding the baby out to Charlie.
Charlie took the baby and held her. He forgave both of them, as he talked baby talk to Michelle, and Michelle grinned a big toothless smile in response.
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