Last Exit to Brooklyn (23 page)

They tossed a few more ideas around, evaluated the whole setup, and decided the best thing to do was to maintain their present
position: Harry was a good man and stays on the job. Harry was a nut, but that was what made him so valuable. He continually overstepped the limits of the contract with regard to working, but this, in its own little way, helped prevent the company from trying the same thing. Harry forced the company to fight so hard, and spend so much time, getting what they were allowed under the contract that they didnt have time to infringe on the limitations the contract set on them. They recognized that Harry was the best diversionary action they had. And too, this made dealing with the company easier for the officials. Although most, if not all, of the men they had to deal with at the company hated the union, so much of their hatred was personal and directed against Harry that the union officials had a much easier time talking and, under ordinary circumstances, dealing with them. Harry, in addition to all the other functions he served, was their builtin patsy. They could never find another shop steward for local 392 as willing and as capable as Harry Black. He was irreplaceable.

But of course the real reason they didnt want to allow the firing of Harry was that if they did they would be conceding a point, no matter how meaningless, to the company; and, most important of all, if they ever allowed the company the authority and privilege to fire someone they would be forfeiting a right that was theirs and theirs alone; and if they allowed it once they might, somehow, be forced to allow it again. Yet even if they were reasonably certain that the company would not try to exercise this right again they could not allow it even once. Someone might get ideas about them. It had been a long time since anyone tried to take their local away from them (that attempt being stopped easily with a few killings) and if they allowed this there would bound to be someone who thought they were too weak to keep their local. They didnt believe that anyone could actually take it away from them, but they didnt want to be forced to spend the time and money to keep what was theirs, especially now that they had, in addition to many other things, the Welfare Fund functioning so nicely for themselves. Each of them had made long term loans based on their cut from the fund and keeping the books in order required time and attention and then sometimes when theres trouble things get out of hand and there are investigations and more time and money are lost.

All these things were considered and smoked and drunk over and, now that the company obviously wasnt going to fight against their administering the fund any longer, they had no need to worry. Pressure was building up, but the company must be feeling it even more to have made the offer. And now they had something to relieve the pressure, slightly, for a while. Next Saturday, before the men received their bag of groceries, they would tell the rank and file that those sonsofbitches, those bellyrobbinbastards, were willing to concede a few points if we allowed them to fire men. And, of course, they would remind the men of this each Saturday and it should prove enough to get their hatred directed actively and completely against the company. The officials looked at each other. No one had anything to add. They agreed that that was about the size of the situation. Nothing more need be said. They would not give up their power.

The guys from the Greeks still came over almost every night after the picketers had left and sat around with Harry drinking beer and, if in the mood, ordering food. Harry putting the cost on his expense sheet. Harry gave them his usual rundown on the strike and, as usual, the guys ignored him and played the radio and drank and, as usual, Harry continued his narration.

During the week when Harry didnt go up to Marys he would lock up the office after the guys left and go home. He hadnt said more than a few words to Mary, nor she to him, since the morning he punched her. She left for a few days with the baby after that – Harry didnt notice that she was gone – but it was even worse being with her parents so, after a few days, she came back where she could at least watch TV. Harry would go right to bed and lie on his back thinking – not noticing Mary when she got into bed, thinking of her seldom, usually only when he dropped some money on the table for her to buy food. He would lie in bed thinking not only of all his friends at Marys, but hoping, as he had so many times, that tomorrow night he might meet someone who would not only ask him to take her home that night but every night; hoping he might meet someone who would want to live with him and they could make love everynight or just sit
and hold hands and feel her small, soft and weak in his arms … not all slimy like a ballbreakin cunt.

Saturday the President spoke to the men before they were given their packages. The men, for the last few months, stayed on the side of the hall near the doors where the packages were handed out and half of the hall was empty while they jammed and shoved each other to retain or take a place near the doors; and each week the shoving and yelling increased. The officials tried to get the men to sit, but they absolutely refused to give up their places near the doors and so more than 1,000 men shoved and jostled each other as the President spoke.

Men … Men, we’re beating them! Theyre starting to COLLAPSE! The men quieted a little and most of them were looking at the President. Its been a long time – and krist knows weve suffered with you – but theyre coming around. They havent given in down the line yet, but its only a matter of time. Theyve agreed to most of the terms and it wont be long before they agree to the rest. The men started to move uneasily at hearing the same words again and the noises started increasing. The President raised his hands and yelled louder. We could have settled the strike this week if we wanted to, but we didnt. You want to know why? The men quieted again and stared. Because we like talking to those stuffedshirtbastards? because we like to argue with men who are trying to take the bread out of our families mouths? because we like workin 16 and 18 hours a day??? No! I’ll tell you why. Because they wanted the right to fire anybody they want, thats why. If they get a bug up their ass and decide they dont like the looks of some guy they want to be able to fire him right there and then. No questions asked, no answers given. Just kick him out on his ass and let him and his family starve. Thats why we have been fighting those bastards so hard; thats why we have been out of work so long. The men were silent, still. More than 1,000 men huddled near the doors staring at the speaker. More than once since we have been negotiating with them they have tried to buy us off in one way or another if we would let them throw men out in the cold any time they wanted to. And you know what we told them. You know what we said when they tried that shit on us. I’ll tell you what we said. We stood up and looked those bastards right in the eye and told them, right to their fat faces,
FUCK YOU! The clique roared approval – thats what we told them – others joined in the yelling and whistling – thats what the elected officials of your union said and we walked out – more yelling and stamping of feet – we left those bastards standing. And you can bet your sweet ass those sonsofbitches know theres no weak link in this union – almost all the men roared and whistled – and we’ll see them dead and buried and piss on their graves before we let them throw one of our brothers to the wolves – the men continued to shout and the President leaned over the edge of the platform and yelled over and between their shouts – we let those bellyrobbinbastards know that all we want is an honest dollar for an honest days work … we dont want any handouts, we want to work for our money, but by krist we’re not going to let them get fat from our sweat. We’re the men who break our backs while they sit their fat asses on soft chairs in an air conditioned office and rake in the money for our work. And you know what they say? They say that the average pay for you men is $8,000 a year plus another $1,000 in fringe benefits. They say this is enough. They say that they cant afford to pay more without firing as many as they want. You know what we said? We told them to let us all have over $50,000 a year that they were getting and they shut their goddamn mouths fast enough – the men roared so loud he had to stop speaking for a moment – thats just what we told them. He stood with his head bowed then slowly raised it, his voice lower, husky with dedication. I tell you men now that no matter what happens – even if it should cost me my life – you will not have to worry about whether or not you will have a job tomorrow or the next day or the next, speaking slowly, each word seeming to be forced separately from his overworked and weakened body, this I tell you now and guarantee that when we sign a contract you will be able to go home from work each night and know that there will be a job waiting for you tomorrow. There will be no sleepless nights or empty bellies. He backed away from the edge of the platform and sat with the rest of the officials, his head bowed slightly. The men roared, slapped each other and laughed as they lined up for their $10 bag of groceries. There would be no trouble from them for a few weeks.

The next Monday the mens spirits were still raised. There wasnt
the picnic atmosphere of the first days of the strike when they joked, played ball, shot crap and washed and polished their cars; but the despondency and hopelessness of the past few months had been relieved, temporarily at least. Now, as with the incident of the trucks, they had a tangible reason for hating and this allowed them to ignore the reality of the strike, of their lack of money, of the fact that they had been out of work for 6 months and did not know how much longer the strike would last; the daily arguments with the wife, and that they had to scrimp to make the payments on the house and car and, in some cases, that there no longer was a car. Now their hatred and anger was no longer spread over and around everything and everyone they came in contact with, but was directed, with energy at the company and the men who were trying to break their union. There was even a little buoyancy in their stride as they walked the picket line and a hint of optimism in their voices as they spoke to each other and occasionally laughed.

Harry walked around with the men too, patting them on the backside and telling them that theyd break those ballbreakers. Theyll find out they cant fuckus, and he would smile his smile and stamp books.

Only a slight reminder was needed the following Saturday to keep the men comparatively content, but soon the grins once more faded into scowls and the scowls into blankness and though the President gave an exuberant and loud speech before they received their $10 bag of groceries, and told them in as fatherly a manner as he could, that Thanksgiving morning they would each receive, in addition to their regular bag of groceries, a 4lb. chicken – the clique applauding – they lined up, walked and spoke with the same sullenness and hopelessness they had not too many weeks before. And then it was Thanksgiving day. At least the wife would be home today to cook.

That night Harry went to the dragball. Hundreds of fairies were there dressed as women, some having rented expensive gowns, jewelry and fur wraps. They pranced about the huge ballroom calling to each other, hugging each other, admiring each other, sneering disdainfully
as a hated queen passed. O, just look at the rags shes wearing. She looks like a bowery whore. Well, lets face it, its not the clothes. She would look simply ugly in a Dior original, and they would stare contemptuously and continue prancing.

There were, too, hundreds not dressed as women: a few of them fairies who walked about with the others, but the majority were johns, trade, and bisexuals. They sat around the perimeter of the ballroom on folding chairs or stood leaning against the wall, dimly visible in the shadows of the barely lighted ballroom, squinting and leering at the queens. The entire ballroom was lit by four medium sized spotlights, one in each corner, and the light was filtercd through multi-colored discs so spots of coloured light crawled along the ceiling and walls, fell to the floor then crawled along the floor, over a leg or back and back into the corner. The queens standing or walking around the floor were continually brushed with the colored spots and their smooth bared arms would be pocked with green, purple, red, violet, yellow, or combinations as the colors crossed each other, and flesh would be covered with brownish or bluish cores with various coloured ellipses wiggling from them; or a cheek would be pink or white or tan with makeup then suddenly mottled with a large gangrenous spot, the rest of the face shaded with yellow and violet and then the cheek would turn purple, then red; and an occasional light scratched across the faces of the stag line along the sides of the grand ballroom, a wide staring eye or green wet lips briefly visible in the shadows; the lights crawling down the wall, rushing across their faces, then crawling along the floor to their corner and starting the journey again. A few of the shadows spoke, some even smiled, but most sat still and silent, hunched forward slightly following the movements of the lights and queens. Occasionally a flame would appear as a cigarette was lit and an orange face would be thrust forward then be completely invisible for many seconds before coming slowly from the shadows again, the eyes never once, not for a second, looking anywhere but at the queens and the roving lights.

Harry stood at the entrance to the grand ballroom looking around then slid to the side and leaned against the wall trying to recognize his friends. He know almost everyone from Marys would be there,
but he could not recognize them in drag. When his eyes became accustomed to the light he looked more closely at the queens on the floor. He was surprised, though he knew they were men, how much they looked like women. Beautiful women. He had never in his life seen women look more beautiful or feminine than the queens strolling about the floor of the ballroom. Yet, when his surprise passed, he felt a little disappointed and looked at the fairies not in drag. He spotted a few he knew and walked over to them. At first he felt conspicuous leaving the shadowed edge of the room and walking across the floor with the lights bobbing around, but as he stood and talked with his friends he wished the lights were brighter. Occasionally one of their friends, who was in drag, would join them and though Harry was still surprised at how beautiful they were he was impatient for them to leave.