Mrs R. unlocks the gate at 7 a.m. From then on you can see her bustling at the gate and in the courtyard, scrutinizing everybody who comes in. She stops every stranger who looks “better-off” with a cautious question, “Sir/Madam, whom do you want to visit?” She requests beggars to leave [145] in an imperious tone, “Go! Now! I’ve already told you. Didn’t you hear?” The reason is that beggars have often caused Mrs R. trouble. She can clearly remember the whip of reproach after two winter coats had been stolen from the hall of Mr and Mrs K.’s flat. The thief must have been a beggar who accidentally noticed that the door had been left unchained. Another time a ragged woman came to Mr and Mrs S. “I am a dentist. I’m hungry. I’m begging you for help,” she recited in a pompous tone at the doorstep. Mrs S. went into the room to get a few groszes and the woman used that moment of her inattention—she grabbed a scarf from a peg and vanished.
Another time a lady beggar came over. Unnoticed by Mrs R. she went to the bins and started rummaging through the rubbish, throwing some of it on the lid and scattering it on the asphalt. She hung herself over the edge of the bin to reach inside in such an unfortunate way that she fell headfirst into the rubbish. Mrs R. and her son rushed to help her. They pulled her out, causing the rubbish to spill out. Mrs R. was so angry that she kicked the lady beggar. The woman burst out in tears. “Not only am I hungry, but I am also kicked for being hungry,” she sobbed. “My heart is aching, but I cannot spend the whole day cleaning all this mess,” Mrs R. explained.
Every day a few dozen such visitors come to Mrs R.’s courtyard. But there are also women beggars of a different kind—courtyard singers, whom Mrs R. fights in an equally uncompromising way. Whenever she hears some hoarse lyrics (“In a tiny cottage far away from the town, in a poor and dirty cellar, a woman was sitting by a crib . . .”) or [146] an appeal (“Yidishe kinder, yidishe hertser, hots rakhmones, varef arop a pur groshen oder a shtikl brayt, a kartofle, vus ayner kon)”421 when she is in her duty room, she interrupts it with a sharp command, “Enough, you cannot beg here.” She will not yield even if the lady beggar begins to plead, “What’s the harm of me singing here? Somebody might throw me a couple of groszes or a crust. I won’t enter the staircase.” The courtyard has to be quiet, for such is the wish of the residents.
