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Authors: Hubert Selby Jr.

Last Exit to Brooklyn (14 page)

BOOK: Last Exit to Brooklyn
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In a few minutes Wilson, a production manager, came rushing across the floor. He smiled, put his arms around Mikes and Harrys shoulders. What seems to be the problem boys, smiling at Harry and giving Mikes shoulder a reassuring and knowing squeeze. Harry scowled, turned slightly so that Wilsons hand fell from his shoulder and barely opened his mouth when he spoke. The man at this machine aint cuttin no stainless. I tried to tellim Mr Wilson that the job had ta be done – thats OK Mike, patting his shoulder and smiling even broader at both of them, Im sure we can straighten this thing out. Harrys a reasonable man. Nothin ta straighten out. He aint cuttin stainless. Mike started to throw his arms up in disgust, but Wilson put an arm around him and held his arms for a second, smiled then patted him again on the back. Why dont we go into the lounge and have a smoke and talk this over? How about it boys? Mike said OK
and started walking toward the smoking room. Harry grunted and stood still as Wilson motioned him on, waiting until Wilson started walking behind Mike before he too followed, a foot or so behind Wilson. When they got to the smoking room Wilson took out a pack of cigarettes and offered them. Mike took one and stuck it in his mouth. Harry said nothing, but took one out of his own pack, ignored Wilsons lighter, lighting his own cigarette. Wilson asked them if they would like a coke and they both declined. The operator, who had been sitting in the corner, came over to Mike and asked him if he could go back to work. Harry started to yell something, but Mike told the man to go out to his bench, but not to turn his machine on. Just wait there. We’ll be out in a minute. The man left and Wilson turned immediately to Harry, smiling, trying to appear relaxed and trying to hide his hatred for him.

Wilson looked at Harry and decided that it wouldnt do to try the arm around the shoulder routine again. Now look Harry, I understand and respect your position. I have known and have had the pleasure of working with you for quite a few years now and I know, just as Mike here knows, and everyone in the plant knows, that youre a good and honest worker, and that you always have the interest of the organization and the men at heart. Isnt that right Mike? Mike nodded automatically. Like I say Harry, we all know you are a good man and that no one else could have done the job you have in keeping the union affairs of this plant functioning as they have been and we all respect and admire you for this. And we all respect and admire your intelligence and ability. And believe me when I say this, because I say this not as an executive of the organization, but as a man who works with the other men here, I say this as a fellow worker: I would be the last person in the world to ask anyone to make even the slightest breach in the union rules and regulations. To me a contract is a sacred instrument and I will stand by it come hell or high water … but, and I say this as a worker and an executive … look, its like this: its just like in the union itself. You have your constitution and bylaws. Right? I am certain you are familiar with them. And I am also certain that you follow them to the letter but there are times when you might have to make a slight exception. Now wait a minute – Harry leaning
forward and starting to speak – just hear me out. Now look, suppose the rules say a meeting should start at 8 oclock, but suddenly theres a big snow storm and it takes the men 30 minutes or an hour longer to get to the meeting. Now, you either will have to wait and start the meeting late or you will have to start it on time without the proper number of members present. Wilson smiled, relaxed and took a drag of his cigarette, satisfied with his cleverness, thinking that Harrys position was untenable. Harry took a drag of his cigarette, blew the smoke in Wilsons direction, dropped the butt on the floor and squashed it under his shoe. What we do at the union meetings is none of your business unless we want ta tellya about it. O, I know that Harry, I certainly didnt mean to imply otherwise. All I am trying to say is that this organization, like your union, is like any other organisation in that it is a team and everyone connected with the organization from the President to the elevator operators are a member of that team and we all have to pull together. Everyones job is equally important. The Presidents job is no more important than yours in that if you dont co-operate, just as he must co-operate, we can not get the job done. That is what I am trying to say. We all have to get behind the wheel, just like in the union. Now, we have a job that must be done and it must be done now. This new man is the only man available to do it at this time. That is the only reason he is doing it. We certainly had no intention of being instrumental in asking anyone to do anything that might even be considered a breach of union rules, but the job has to be done – look, this guys a new man and aint cuttin no stainless so just stop the shit. If ya put him back on the job I’ll call the whole goddamn plant out, Harrys face becoming redder, his eyes glaring, ya get that? I’ll stand by that fuckin bench all day if I have ta and if ya try to putim back on that job I swear ta krist the whole fuckin plantll be out on the street in two fuckin seconds and you and no ballbreakin fuck in the jointll stop me. Ya getit? If ya want a strike I’ll giveya one. He walked out of the room, slammed the door and walked back to the bench. He said nothing to the man who was leaning impatiently against the bench, but simply stood at the other end.

Mike and Wilson looked at the door for a moment then Mike asked
Wilson if he wanted him to put the man back anyway. No Mike, you had better not. I do not want any trouble. You just go back to your desk. I’ll see Mr Harrington.

Wilson was disconcerted about having to see Mr Harrington, but he didnt know what else to do. He certainly did not want the responsibility of precipitating a strike. Mr Harrington waved him toward a chair and asked Wilson what was on his mind. Wilson sat down and told him the story. As soon as he heard Harrys name Mr Harrington frowned, then banged his desk with his fist when Wilson started relating the details. He listened becoming more and more infuriated and insulted not only because Harry had the audacity to defy him, one of the Vice-Presidents, and the Corporation, but also because he knew he would have to compromise and not break Harry as he would like to, but would have to avoid any trouble; that particular job had to be done according to schedule. He could not afford a delay. But there would be a strike soon and then he would get rid of Harry. He had hated Harry for years and had never been able to get rid of him, but he was hopeful he could use the strike to get rid of him. As head of the Corporations negotiating committee he knew he could persuade the other members to continue to reject the unions demands even if those demands became reasonable. He knew the Corporation could let the men stay on strike for the remainder of the year with only a slight loss in net earnings. He assumed that when the strike was 6 months old the union would gladly settle the strike if he gave in to most of their demands on the condition that he could discharge Harry. It was worth a try. He had nothing to lose.

By the time Wilson had finished telling him what had happened he had decided what to do. He stared directly into Wilsons eyes. Well, you certainly made a mess of it didnt you? The corners of Wilsons mouth sagged a little more. He said nothing. It seems as if I have to do everything around here or the entire organization starts to crumble. I did the – never mind that now. The important thing is to get the job done. Now … we simply have to get someone else to do that job. How many men do you have working on the Kearny job? 6. Fine. Take one of the men off that job and have him change with the man working on the Collins job. The Kearny job is all brass if I remember
correctly. Yes, it is. But it will take an hour or so to go over the job with the man and I was trying to save all the time I could. Save time! You have already wasted over an hour trying to save time. Now get back and do as I told you.

Wilson got up immediately and left the office. He went directly to the foreman of the Kearny job, and explained the situation. The foreman took one of his men off the job and the man went with Wilson to the 6th floor. Wilson explained to Mike and Harry what was going to be done then told the new man who to report to upstairs. When Harry saw him leave, and Mike and the man who had come down with Wilson go over to the lathe with the stainless steel stock, he left.

When he got back to his own bench his foreman was just finishing setting up the job for Harry. Think you can finish this job by tomorrow morning Harry? Its a rush. Yeah, sure. I wouldve finished it today, but that wise punk Wilson tried to pull a fast one and I had to straightenim out. He thought he could push me around, but I fixed hisass. Harry turned slightly toward his bench and the foreman left. He was a few feet away when Harry noticed he had gone and he sneered and muttered, chickenshit. Afraid the boss might see him with me. Harry jabbed at the button that turned his lathe on and started working. Fuckim.

Harry worked as slowly as possible, moving the cutting tool almost imperceptibly, and when the time came to go home he still had another hours or so work before the job would be finished.

Harry was in high spirits when he got home. As he washed his hands and splashed water on his face he told his wife what had happened and when she would tell him he ought to be careful, he might lose his job, he would laugh his evil laugh and tell her, they wouldn’t fire me. If they tried that Id have the whole joint on strike and they know it. They cant fuck me around. When he finished eating he went up to the bar and yelled to the guys at the bar how he told the punk ballbreaker off at work, punctuating his story with his laugh.

Mary had already gone to bed by the time Harry got home, but it didnt make any difference to him one way or the other whether or not she was awake, she wouldnt bother him for awhile anyway. He undressed and plopped into bed and looked at Mary to see if she
would wake up, but she uttered a low grunting noise and pulled her knees up closer to her chin. Harry stayed on his side, facing Mary, and fell asleep.

The next morning Harry went up to the 6th floor before going to his own bench. He checked to make sure the new man wasnt working on the stainless job. He smiled when he saw that he wasnt at his bench and stayed around for a while just to be sure they werent trying to pull a fast one; and before he left he went over to the foreman and told him he would see him later. He made his rounds throughout the rest of the plant and when he got back to his bench more than 2 hours had passed. He jabbed the start button and began working. The foreman came over and asked him when the job would be ready, the rest of the job is finished and we’re just waiting for this piece. He sneered at the foreman and told him it would be ready when he finished. The foreman took a quick glance at the job, estimating how long it would be before Harry finished, and left. Harry stared at him for a few minutes, wise fuck, then turned back to the job.

When Harry came back from lunch he went back to the 6th floor and checked again, then strolled around the plant. He got back to his bench eventually and finished the job then went back to the 6th floor. The new man was back at his bench, but a piece of brass was in his machine. Harry went over to him. Thats betta. You come close ta losin your book yesterday mac. He just glanced at Harry, wanting to tell him what he thought of him, but said nothing, having been told that morning about Harry and how he had had more than one book pulled, for no reason at all, from more than one guy. Harry sneered and walked away. He went back to his work, still glowing and feeling omnipotent. He didnt particularly care about the new guy, but he was glad he had shoved it up the boss’s ass and broke it off. He stayed at his work the rest of the day thinking occasionally of yesterday and of the fact that the union contract with the company expired in two weeks and the negotiating committees had not reached an agreement for a new contract and it was a sure thing that there would be a strike. Harry was so happy about going on strike – of closing down the entire shop, of setting up picket lines and watching the few bosses going into the empty factory and sitting at their desks and thinking and
worrying about all the money they were losing while he got his every week from the union – that he laughed every now and then to himself and at times felt like shouting as loud as he could, fuck all you company bastards, all ya ball breakin pricks. We’ll showya. We’ll makeya get on yaknees and begus ta come back tawork. We’ll breakya ya fat fucks.

With each day Harry felt bigger. He walked around the plant waving at the guys, yelling to them above the noise; thinking that soon it would be silent. The whole fuckin shop’d be quiet. And he had cartoon-like images in his mind of dollar bills with wings flying out the window, out of the pocket and pocketbook of a fat baldheaded cigar smoking boss; and punks with white shirts and ties and expensive suits sitting at an empty desk and opening empty pay envelopes. There were images of gigantic concrete buildings crumbling and pieces flying out of the middle and himself suspended in air smashing the buildings to pieces. He could see himself crushing heads and bodies and heaving them from the windows and watching them splatter on the sidewalks below and he roared with laughter as he watched the bodies floating in pools of blood and drifting toward the sewers and he, Harry Black, age 33, shop steward of local 392 watched and roared with laughter.

At night, after supper, he went to the empty store the union was fixing up to use as a strike headquarters. He did little and talked a lot.

Harry slept better, deep and without dreams; but before sleeping he would lie on his side and let the various images of empty shops, crumbling buildings and splattering bodies drift through his mind, more real, more vivid, the features and images more sharply defined, the flesh more pulpy, more flaccid; the cigar tips glowing, the smell of cigar smoke and after shave lotion resented and enjoyed. Then slowly the images would start overlapping each other, become entangled and whirl together in one amorphous multiexposure picture and Harry would smile, the sneer almost disappearing, then he slept.

The last day of the contract Harry whistled as he worked. Not really a whistle, but a flat hissing sound that at times approached a whistle. A new contract had not as yet been signed and there was to be a union meeting that night. When the working day was over Harry walked happily from the shop, slapping many of the men on the back
with as deep a feeling of comradeship as he was capable of feeling, telling them not to forget the meeting and he would see them at the hall. Some of the men stopped in the bar before going home and slowly drank a few beers, talking about the strike, wondering how long it would last and what they would get. Harry bought a beer and walked around the bar slapping a back or squeezing a shoulder, not saying much, simply this is it, or tonights the night. He hung around for half an hour or so then went home.

BOOK: Last Exit to Brooklyn
13.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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