Undark

U.S. Radium Corporation, the “shiniest” business in Orange, New Jersey, continues to hire young women to paint glow-in-the-dark watch faces. Employees must have nimble fingers and superior work ethic. Earn up to $25 a week. Apply in person at factory, High & Alden Streets.

—Newark Star-Eagle, August 30, 1925

FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD Maxine Crown was certain her mother had opened the newspaper to the help-wanted page so she’d see the ad when she set the table for dinner. It was usually her father who left the paper there, having read the news and sports before returning to bed, where he spent most of his day. Velma, Maxine’s older sister, had worked at Radium for three years, and was one of its fastest painters. She did the dials and numbers on up to 250 watches a day with her slender hands. Maxine had no intention of joining her at the plant. She ripped the page from the paper and threw it in the trash.

“I’m not leaving school,” she announced, as her mother, Hazel, ladled out cabbage soup. Not even a shred of pork in it tonight. Good thing Velma got paid tomorrow.

“You will if you want this family to have food on the table.” Her mother handed Maxine the chipped yellow bowl. To herself and Horace, Maxine’s father, she gave the discolored white ones. Velma got the unblemished pink bowl with lilac sprays painted around the rim.

“Mr. Krebbs says I have talent. If I graduate, I can go to college and study to be a medical illustrator. That would pay a lot better than Radium, even if I got to be as speedy as Velma.”

“You’re such a good artist, Maxie.” Velma’s sparkling fingernails patted her sister’s hand. She and the other girls at the factory liked to brush their nails with Undark, the paint whose radium crystals made its zinc powder glow in the dark. “I bet you’ll paint even faster than me.”

“No, I won’t. My fingers are too fat.” Maxine drank the last dregs of her soup.

“I don’t care what that pansy art teacher says,” Hazel frowned as she cleared away the bowls. “There’s no money for college. Besides, we’ll all starve to death before you finish. Do you know that coffee is up to fifty cents a pound and a bag of potatoes costs thirty-six cents?”

“Let Maxie give it another year, Hazel.” Horace, gripping the arms of his chair, breathed heavily. “Doctor Poole says there’s still a chance my lungs will get better.”

“Only a darn fool would expect that to happen.”

Horace’s chest sagged. He’d been exposed to mustard gas during the war and hadn’t worked in six years. The doctor said he suffered from anemia too, and shell shock kept him awake all night. He sat in the dark, staring at the glowing watch face that was his only war gift from the army. The radium-painted dials on watches and instrument panels had allowed him and the other soldiers to fight through the night. Now, back home, these men could only sleep in the day.

Velma tucked a cushion behind Horace and helped her mother carry the rest of dinner to the table. “If I speed up even more, things won’t be so bad.” She blinked at Hazel with what Maxine could have sworn were glowing eyelashes.

“How do you propose to do that? You’re already one of the quickest girls there.” Hazel doled chicken, beans, and potatoes onto the chipped and mismatched plates. The only thing they went with were the nicks in the furniture and the patches in the wallpaper.

“You know how we lip-point the bristles?” Velma had told them how the girls moistened the paint-coated tips of the camel’s hair brushes between their lips to give them a finer point. “The others gaze out the window, dreamy-eyed, while they do it. But I started to keep my head down and fill my mouth with saliva while I paint one...