The early morning sun shone bright through the bedroom windows. Bertha Nelson, a petite woman with striking features, was just beginning to wake up. All her morning chores were being listed in her mind. The chickens in the backyard were quieter than usual. Her cat, Señor Sour Face, was curled up in a pot-sticker form on the rocking chair. The faint clucking of the chickens relieved Bertha: they were like her children, since her husband had died no more than two years earlier. With a sigh, she got out of bed.
The schoolchildren poured into the school nearby while she fed the chickens. Each chicken had its own name, from youngest to eldest: Mary, Beth, Petunia, and Rosemary. Señor Sour Face watched the delicious-looking chickens from the kitchen window. When Bertha returned inside the whole house was warm and filled with the scent of fresh bread, which was wonderful on a chilly morning, even if the sun was out.
As she walked down the icy road to her job at the bakery, the school children who arrived late would greet her. “Good morning, Mrs. Nelson! What kind of bread are you going to bake today?” She would respond merely with a smile, though she knew that every day there was only enough flour for one type of bread.
The bread factory wasn't open yet when she got there, and a small crowd of women were gathered around by the entrance, where the wind couldn't get to them. Bertha saw her old friend Isabella waving to her as she covered her mouth with her scarf. The manager finally arrived at the factory. He commanded the women to move from the door, because he was too big to get through the crowd.
When the lock clicked and the door opened, the busy day began.
-- Josefina Mora
Evidence:
1929-1951: Bertha A. Nelson (widow of Alfred) listed at 4358 S. Bennett. She is a baker.
(Source: Polk's City Directories, Seattle Municipal Archives)
Photo of women working at Langendorf Bakery in 1934, courtesy of the Museum of History and Industry.
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