Last Exit to Brooklyn (18 page)

When the men came back to the office now they dropped their signs on the floor, Harry telling them at first to take it easy then, after being told to go fuckhimself a few times, said nothing and picked the signs up when they left. Soon new signs had to be painted and each time the men saw newly painted signs they became more bitter and cursed the fucks in the company who were keeping them out of work, and cursed the cops for helping those fuckin-bellyrobbers.

The company had been preparing for the strike many months before it started and so, when the first pickets donned their signs and started parading jubilantly up and down in front of the factory, the existing orders had been filled and work transferred to other plants throughout the country or subcontracted to other firms and the primary, and almost only, concern of the executives in the Brooklyn factory was coordinating the transferring and shipping of work and finished products between the various plants and subcontractors. The first few days of the strike were hectic and, at times, slightly chaotic for those executives responsible for co-ordinating work between the various firms, but after that everything proceeded routinely with only an occasional emergency that would be met with long distance calls and soon enough the situation would once more be under control.

When the strike was months old a call came from one of the
factories located in the northern part of New York State where the final assembling of large units was being done. The contract was a time penalizing one and if all the units werent delivered by the specified date a $1,000 per day, for each day over the time, would have to be defaulted by the company. The work had already been delayed for three days because of various failures and breakdowns, but the assembly line had finally been set up and half the factory and personnel were geared to complete the work by the specified time. The work had proceeded smoothly, and it was determined that the work would be completed on time, when it was discovered that one of the final elements, made in the Brooklyn plant, was missing. A call went in immediately to the Brooklyn plant and a quick check of the records indicated that the entire lot had been finished the day before the strike started but, for some reason, had never been shipped. The shipping department was almost empty so the crates containing the needed parts were found quickly. A call was made to the upstate plant and the information relayed along with a promise that they would go out tonight.

Mr Harrington cursed the men with him, but only for a moment, then started calling small neighbourhood trucking firms to find one that would cross the picket line and deliver the material. He finally found one who said he would do it and quoted a fantastic price, but the manager had no choice but to agree and made out a cheque for half the amount, the other half to be paid when the delivery was made.

The men on the picket line were startled when the trucks turned into the runway leading to the loading platform, but only for a second. They yelled at the drivers of the trucks that they were on strike and the drivers yelled fuck you. A few of the men tried to jump on the hoods of the trucks, but fell; a few others picked up stones and tin cans and threw them at the drivers but they just bounced off the cabs. When the men tried to follow the trucks to the platform the police grabbed them and held them back. The yelling of the men on the picket line was heard by the others hanging around the office and they came running; and a call was made from one of the police cars for additional men. Some of the police formed a line across the runway
while the others pushed the men back. Soon there were hundreds of men yelling and pushing; those in the rear shouting to shove the fuckin cops outta the way and get those fuckinscabs; the men in front screaming in the faces of the cops and being shoved by the mob behind them into the line of police that was slowly weakening. For many minutes the amoeba like mass flowed forward, backward and around, arms and signs bobbing up and down over heads, clubs raised; red infuriated faces almost pressed together, words and spit bouncing off faces; anger clouding and watering eyes. Then more police arrived by the carsfull. Then a fire-truck. Men leaped from the cars and were assimilated by the mass. A fire hose was quickly unravelled and connected; a loudspeaker screeched and told the men to breakitup. FUCKYOU FLATFOOT GO AND FUCKYASELF YASONOFABITCH IF YOU MEN DONT BREAKITUP WE’LL RUN YOU ALL IN NOW GET BACK FROM THAT RUNWAY YEAH, SURE, AFTA WE BREAK THOSE FUCKINSCABSHEADS DERE TAKIN THE BREAD FROM OUR MOUTHS IM TELLING YOU FOR THE LAST TIME, BREAKITUP OR I’LL TURN THE HOSE ON YOU WHO PAID YAOFF YASONOFABITCH. The line of police had been extended and was pushing as hard as it could against the mob, but the men became more incensed as more cops fought them and the voice threatened them and they felt the power of their numbers and the frustration and lost hope of fruitless months on the picket and food lines finally found the release it had been looking for. Now there was something tangible to strike at. And the police who had been standing, bored, for months as the men walked up and down, telling them to keep moving, envying them because they at least could do something tangible to get more money while all they could do was put in a request to the mayor and be turned down by the rotten politicians, finally found the outlet they too had been waiting for and soon the line became absorbed by the mass and two and three went down to their knees and then others too, strikers and cops, and a sign swooped through the air and thudded against a head and a white gloved hand went up and then a club thudded and hands, clubs, signs, rocks, bottles were lifted and thrown as if governed by a runaway eccentric rod and the mass spread out, some falling over others and
heads popped out of windows and doorways and peered and a few cars parked cautiously or slowed and observed for a moment and the mass continued to wallow along and across 2nd avenue as a galaxy through the heavens with the swooshing of comets and meteors and the voice that screeched now directed itself to the firemen and they walked slowly toward the grinding mass and a white glove clutched at a head and the glove turned red and occasionally a bloody body would be exuded from the mass and roll a foot or two and just lie there or perhaps wriggle slightly and four or five beaten and bloodied cops managed to work their way free from the gravity of the mass and stood side by side and walked back to the mass swinging their clubs and screaming and a sign was broken over one of their heads but the cop only screamed louder and continued to swing, still walking, until his club was broken over a head and he picked up the broken sign without breaking rank and continued and the thudding of the clubs on heads was only slightly audible and the sound not at all unpleasant as it was muted by the screams and curses and they stepped over a few bodies until a line of strikers was somehow formed and they charged the cops not stopping as the clubs were methodically pounded on their heads and the two lines formed a whirling heated nebula that spun off from the galaxy to disintegrate as the strikers overwhelmed them and kicked the cops as they tried to regain their feet or roll away and sirens screeched but were unheard and more police jumped from cars and trucks and another fire hose was unraveled and aimed the order given to open the hydrants and not wait until the police who were whirling with the strikers could extricate themselves and a few of the strikers noticed the second hose being readied and then noticed the first hose and charged the firemen but the water leaped forth in an overpowering gush and one of the men took the full force in his abdomen and his mouth jutted open but if a sound came out it was unheard and he doubled over and spun like a gyroscope runamuck bouncing off the men behind him and bouncing to the curb and those who were behind him were knocked and spun and a few policemen ran frantically to the various street corners trying to direct and divert traffic but all of the cars moved slowly no matter how urgently the police waved them on not wanting
to miss any of the excitement and the voice screeched again giving directions and the two powered battering rams were directed with knowledge and precision and soon the mass was a chaos of colliding particles that bounced tumbled and whirled around against and over each other and soon it was quiet enough to hear the ambulance sirens and the louder moans that spewed from the mass and soon too the street was clear of the smaller debris and even the blood had been washed away.

The fire hoses were shut off and those who were injured too seriously to move unaided were helped to the sidewalk where they sat down and leaned against the buildings or were helped into one of the waiting ambulances or patrol cars and taken to the hospital. The street was still congested with men, cars, trucks, ambulances and onlookers. There were still hundreds of strikers standing in small groups talking, helping injured strikers, looking at the cops and waiting for the trucks to come out. Harry, who had carefully avoided the fight, moved from group to group, his shirt hanging out, hair mussed and face dirtied, cursing the bosses, the cops and those fuckin scabs, asking the men how they were and slapping them on the back.

The police too were concerned about the trucks. Additional men had arrived and a barricade was setup to keep the strikers away from the runway and the hoses were placed in strategic positions. Again the voice told the strikers to breakitup and again the men said FUCKYOU and remained where they were: eyeing the cops, who stood behind the barricade, and the firemen with their hoses. The voice told them they didnt want to use force but, if they didnt disperse immediately, that force would be used. The men yelled and cursed and started spreading out getting ready to charge the barricade as soon as the trucks came up the runway. The voice told them they had exactly 60 seconds before the hoses would be turned on again and started counting. There were still 30 seconds left when the first truck was heard coming up the runway. The counting was stopped and the hoses were ordered turned on. The men had yet to take their first forward step when the water hit them. The hoses were used expertly and none of the strikers reached the barricade until the trucks were almost a block away and then they just stood yelling and cursing.

When the trucks were out of sight the men backed away from the barricade, stood looking at the cops for a few minutes then slowly walked away, going home or back to the office. The police and firemen slowly gathered up their equipment and went back to their various stationhouses. 83 men were hospitalized.

Some of the strikers going back to the office carried the remnants of signs, some helped others still bleeding or still dazed from the fight. The injured men were driven home, Harry telling them hed see that their books were marked that they got hurt; the others crowded into the office or hung around outside.

The men in the office were still yelling and cursing, Harry passing out beer, telling them how he clobbered a cop – hoping no one had noticed he avoided the fight – or how he just missed getting hit with a club, but everyone was too angry to pay any attention to him just as they had been too busy to remember who was where during the fight. Harry eventually worked his way over to his desk and sat down with a beer, extremely conscious of the noise and wondering if there was something he could do. He leaned on the desk, sipped his beer, wishing a thought would pop into his head. It wasnt until he saw the President and a few other officials forcing their way through the crowd that he realized he should have called the union office. He leaped up and stumbled around his desk shouting that he had been trying to reach the office and everyone was yelling and crowding around the officials and they stood still and yelled for the men to be quiet, for krists sake. How can we find out what happened with everybody yelling. They all started yelling again and the officials waved their hands and the men started to quiet and Harry tried to force his way forward but one of the men placed himself in front of the President and told him hed tellem what happened. I was on the line when the trucks came in. What trucks? All the men started answering and yelling and the officials waved their arms again and the man who had started talking yelled ta shuttup. I’ll tellem what happened. We was on the line when all ofasudden these 4 trucks come down 2nd avenue and turned down the runway to the loadin platform … When the entire story had been told the President asked if anyone saw the name of the trucking company and one of the men said he knewem. Ive
seen those trucks in the neighborhood, and he gave the officials the name and told them where they were usually parked. Then the President told the men that everything would be taken care of and that no more trucks would pass the line and that they should go home and take it easy and that from now on there would be someone watching the street at all times and when anything, I mean anything and I dont give a fuck what it is, tries to pass the line that everybody was to haulass over to the line and block the joint. The men yelled, yeah, we’ll show the fucks. But dont hang around the plant or the copsll only start again. The law says you can only have so many men on the picket line and theyll use any excuse they can to split your skulls so dont givem the chance. Try and stay off the street as much as possible when youre not on the line and they cant do a thing.

The President went over to the desk and made a phone call while the other officials shook hands with the men and patted them on the back as they walked them toward the door. The President was on the phone for some time, making arrangements to have more signs printed and making certain that they would definitely be in the strike office by 8 oclock in the morning; then spoke to a few other people in the union office and by the time he finished the office was empty except for the other officials and Harry, who had been standing behind him ever since he first picked up the phone.

Harry offered him a cigarette then fumbled for a match, the President finally taking one out of his own pocket. Harry tried to tell him how he had tried to stop the trucks, but was interrupted by the other officials who started talking to the President. They formed a small huddle, talking low, Harry standing on the fringe, and Vinnie and Sal came in. Whattayasay Harry? I hear yahad a little trouble. Yeah man, I hear we missed a good rumble. They filled a couple of glasses with beer then rejoined Harry. Ya not gonna letem getaway with that shit, areya? Yabet yasweet ass we’re not. Dont worry, itll never happen again. If it wasnt for the fuckin cops they never wouldve got pastus. Shitman, theres other ways ta stopem. Yeah, smiling at each other and drinking their beer. Whattayamean? Shit, all yagotta do – the President came over and asked Harry who they were. Harry told him their names and said they were a couple of the guys from the
neighborhood. This is the President of the union. Whattayasay. Had a little trouble, eh? Not too much. You boys have something on your minds? Just a little business proposition, eh Sal? Yeah. Like what? Like gettin ridda the trucks. Is it worth 200 taya ta get riddathem? Do you think you can do it without any trouble? Yeah. If theyre parked where that guy says they are itll be a slopeout. The President turned his back to the others, gave them $200, said goodbye to Harry and left with the other officials. Sal and Vinnie split the money, finished their beers and left. Another day of the strike had ended.