Louisiana State University LSU Digital Commons LSU Master's Theses Graduate School 2014 The ourJ neyers Alyson Pomerantz Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical College, [email protected] Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_theses Part of the Creative Writing Commons Recommended Citation Pomerantz, Alyson, "The ourJ neyers" (2014). LSU Master's Theses. 235. https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_theses/235 This Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by the Graduate School at LSU Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in LSU Master's Theses by an authorized graduate school editor of LSU Digital Commons. For more information, please contact [email protected]. THE JOURNEYERS A Thesis Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of the Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical College in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Fine Arts in The Department of English by Alyson Pomerantz B.A., University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 1998 May 2014 Table of Contents Abstract…………………………………………………………………………………...iv Chapter 1…………………………………………………………………………………..1 Chapter 2…………………………………………………………………………………..9 Chapter 3…………………………………………………………………………………23 Chapter 4…………………………………………………………………………………30 Chapter 5…………………………………………………………………………………42 Chapter 6…………………………………………………………………………………54 Chapter 7…………………………………………………………………………………60 Chapter 8…………………………………………………………………………………66 Chapter 9…………………………………………………………………………………81 Chapter 10………………………………………………………………………………..93 Chapter 11………………………………………………………………………………..97 Chapter 12………………………………………………………………………………116 Chapter 13………………………………………………………………………………125 Chapter 14………………………………………………………………………………138 Chapter 15………………………………………………………………………………148 Chapter 16………………………………………………………………………………158 Chapter 17………………………………………………………………………………166 Chapter 18………………………………………………………………………………175 Chapter 19………………………………………………………………………………183 Chapter 20………………………………………………………………………………193 Chapter 21………………………………………………………………………………199 ii Chapter 22………………………………………………………………………………216 Chapter 23………………………………………………………………………………223 Chapter 24………………………………………………………………………………235 Chapter 25………………………………………………………………………………246 Chapter 26………………………………………………………………………………254 Chapter 27………………………………………………………………………………264 Chapter 28………………………………………………………………………………271 Chapter 29………………………………………………………………………………277 Chapter 30………………………………………………………………………………281 Chapter 31………………………………………………………………………………291 Chapter 32………………………………………………………………………………300 Vita……………………………………………………………………………………...315 iii Abstract On May 3, 1932, Minnie Zenkel’s Original Yiddish Puppet Theater, located in the heart of the Lower East Side’s “Yiddish Rialto,” burns down under mysterious circumstances. The police suspect arson but there are no persons of interest, and the theater’s namesake, a twenty-year old female puppeteer, disappears just after the fire; some believe she has stolen the theater’s original scripts in an act of revenge. Eighty years later the successor puppet theater once again finds itself without a home, when it receives word that developers want to raze the theater, now in Tribeca, and construct a forty-foot hotel. In the context of this backdrop we meet Jorie Goldman, who has been laid off from her long-time associate position at a prestigious law firm and finds temporary employment with a land-use lawyer hired to stop the developers. Like the neighborhood she is fighting to save, Jorie struggles with her own questions of identity. Bisexual and single, Jorie hasn’t yet fully “come of age,” in part because of her tumultuous childhood; at age thirteen, Jorie’s younger sister died of leukemia, prompting her parents’ divorce. In attempting to save the puppet theater from destruction, Jorie will be forced to confront her past and the related fears that prevent her from finding success in her career and a lasting love. Centered on the changing physical landscape of New York City and incorporating elements of puppetry, Broadway, Yiddish, and law, this is ultimately a journey of self-discovery. On this journey, Jorie will meet a cast of characters related to the future of 31 Desbrosses Street who also wrestle with self-identity. Susan Fiske, a Korean adoptee raised by white Connecticuters, is the chairwoman of the zoning board that has the ultimate say over the fate of the building, yet she also has an undisclosed iv personal interest in the outcome of the case. Biz Colton, the current owner of the building and a famous Broadway actor, bumps up against ghosts from his own past when he decides whether to sell his interest in the property. Finally, Jorie finds a love interest in Ella Leider, an academic and member of the puppet theater, who is searching for Minnie Zenkel’s lost scripts. v Chapter 1 Until now, Jorie Goldman didn’t question why Weber scheduled her annual review on the twenty-first floor rather than her office. She remembers in her first year when they instituted the rule. Year-end reviews are always to be held in the associate’s office. It was meant to make the associates feel more comfortable, so they would be on their own turf when any “constructive feedback” was given. Constructive feedback, law firm-speak for stuff you screwed up. Not surprisingly, she finds the room empty. Weber is never on time. It’s usually only the associates who get last name treatment, but Weber is different from the other partners: ever since Jorie joined the firm six years ago, Weber has always been Weber. Eyeing the long conference table, she sits at the head. She has sat at this table a million times, though never in this spot. Often she gets lost somewhere in the middle during marathon-long business meetings, when the opposing counsel’s voice booms from a speaker that looks out of the center of the table like a big black eye. Track lighting showcases the modern-art copycats that adorn the walls, mostly white canvases with squiggles of color and free-floating geometric shapes. In this room they talk corporate lawyer-speak, language that would never make its way into a legal drama because most people would fall asleep mid-sentence. A partner might say, “The clause will need to be modified to include for the contingency we’ve baked into Section 3.2,” and Jorie will nod. She is fluent. Today the room is quiet, intensifying the gurgling sounds coming from Jorie’s stomach. Too nervous to focus on any of the work she’s brought with her, she looks out the window. Usually she’s too preoccupied to enjoy the expanse of Central Park from this 1 vantage point. The horses line up on Fifty-Ninth Street, a yellow-painted carriage leading the others. Jorie remembers reading how a couple months ago activists stormed the West Side stables and freed the carriage horses. After being transported to a farm upstate, they died months later from neglect. The “farm” turned out to be a ramshackle plot of land that the owner inherited from a great uncle. The owner let the horses loose before he went on a six-month trip around South America. An activist was quoted as saying, “Better for the horses to die free than live a life enslaved, carrying around fat tourists all day.” Now Jorie can’t help but laugh when she spies a heavy-set women toting two FAO Schwartz bags as she squeezes into the back of one of the carriages, where two boys wait. Jorie barely hears the whoosh of the doors as Weber enters. He looks very much as he did when Jorie first started at the law firm. Then, he was still a junior partner, with a full head of hair and a reputation for being a gunner. Rumor has it that he graduated number one in his class at Columbia, and was the youngest to make partner at Hoover Carrington in almost twenty years. His blond hair has thinned in places, but he’s tall and fit, still in shape despite the punishing hours of the job. With his broad face and wide-set eyes he remains handsome, a solid crush of many young associates. Jorie has worked with Weber for the better part of five years and slept with him for one. Because of this, she knows his peculiarities well. He orders his suits from a tailor in Venice and wears leather slippers in his own office, leaving his shoes in the hallway, much to the annoyance of other partners on the floor. In the winter he wears a hunting cap in the style of Ignatius P. Reilly. In all, though, he’s not much different from the rest of the partners. They have souls—this is not a John Grisham sort of firm where you sign your name in blood— but the golden handcuffs, as they’re often called, have some 2 bearing on why people stay here so long, despite the fact that the job doesn’t afford any semblance of a well-balanced life. Six-figure salaries. Late-night dinners at The Palm, on the client. Sedan rides home, if she works past eight. Seeing her client’s name in the papers announcing major deals that she drew up paperwork for. The freedom she might have craved as a young associate is replaced by a gnawing feeling when she’s not working. She’ll be tagged as unproductive. She’ll be warned about her hours. Weber puts a thin manila folder on the table. Jorie has her legal pad out, ready to take notes. He covers her hand to stop her from writing. She almost recoils from shock alone; he has made every effort not to make any kind of bodily contact in almost six months, a true model of partner/associate propriety. Yet now, his hands are on hers. “Jorie,” he says, drawing out the syllables of her name, as if he isn’t certain what might come next. “You’ve been a real asset to my deal team, I hope you know that.” She searches his eyes for any sign of their old familiarity, the way she used to believe that he could understand her thoughts just by looking at her. His glassy brown eyes dart around, tired and impatient. Jorie starts to sweat. This isn’t the normal start, where they reminisce for a bit about the deals they’ve worked on, or laugh over an inside joke.