Wheels (4 page)

The voice at the other end spoke softly. "Matt
.”

Yeah
.”

In the background behind the other's guarded response, Zaleski could
hear a cacophony of noise from the factory floor. He always marveled how
men could live with that noise every day of their working lives. Even
in the years he had worked on an assembly line himself, before removal
to an office shielded him from most of the din, he had never grown used
to it.
His informant said, "The situation's real bad, Matt
.”

"How bad
.”

The hopheads are in the saddle. Don't quote me
.”

"I never do," the assistant plant manager said. -You know that
.”

He had swung partially around and was aware of the other two in the
office watching his face. They might guess, but couldn't know, that he
was speaking to a black foreman, Stan Lathruppe, one of the half dozen
men in the plant whom Matt Zaleski respected most. It was a strange,
even paradoxical, relationship because, away from the plant, Lathruppe
was an active militant who had
once been a follower of Malcom
X. But
here he took his responsibility seriously, believing that in the auto
world he could achieve more for his race through reason than by anarchy.
It was this second attitude which Zaleski -originally hostile to
Lathruppe-had eventually come to respect.
Unfortunately for the c
ompany, be
the present state of race relations, it had comparatively few black foremen or
managers. There ought to be more, many more, and everybody knew it, but
right now many of the black workers didn't want responsibility, or were
afraid of it because of young militants in their ranks, or simply weren't
ready. Sometimes Matt Zaleski, in his less prejudiced moments, thought
that if the industry's top brass had looke
d ahead a few years, the way se
nior executives were supposed to do, and had launched a meaningful
training program for black workers in the 1940s and '50s, there would be
more Stan Lathruppes now. It was everybody's loss that there were not.
Zaleski asked, "What's being planned
.”

"I think, a walkout
.”

"When
.”

"Probably at break time. It could be before, but I don't believe so
.”

The black foreman's voice was so low Zaleski bad to strain to hear. He
knew the other man's problem, added to by the fact that the telephone
he was using was alongside the assembly line where others were working.
Lathruppe was already labeled a "white nigger" by some fellow blacks who
resented even their own race when in authority, and it made no
difference that the charge was untrue. Except for a couple more
questions, Zaleski had no intention of making Stan Lathruppe's life more
difficult.
He asked, "Is there any reason for the delay
.”

-Yes. The hopheads want to take the whole plant out
.”

"Is word going around
.”

"So fast you'd think we still used jungle drums.
"Has anyone pointed out the whole thing's illegal
.”

"You got any more jokes like that
.”

Lathruppe said.
"No
.”

Zaleski sighed. "But thanks
.”

He hung up.
So his first instinct had been right. There wasn't any time to spare,
and hadn't been from the beginning, because a racial labor dispute al
ways burned with a short fuse. Now, if a walkout happened, it could take
days to settle and get everybody back at work; and even if only black
workers became involved, and maybe not all of them, the effect would
still be enough to halt production. Matt Zaleski's job was to keep
production going.
As if Parkland had read his thoughts, the foreman urged, "Matt, don't
let them push you!
So a few may walk off the job, and well have trouble.
But a principle's worth standing up for, sometimes, isn't it
.”

"Sometimes," Zaleski said. "Me trick is to know which principle, and
when
.”

"Being fair is a good way to start," Parkland said, "and fairness works
two ways-up and down
.”

He leaned forward over the desk, speaking
earnestly to Matt Zaleski, glancing now and then to the union
committeeman, Illas. -Okay, I've been tough with guys on the line
because I've had to be. A foreman's in the middle, catching crap from
all directions. From up here, Matt, you and your people are on our necks
every day for production, production, more production; and if it isn't
you it's Quality Control who say, build 'em better, even though you're
building faster. Then there are those who are working, doing the
jobs-including some like Newkirk, and others-and a foreman has to cope
with them, along with the union as well if he puts a foot wrong, and
sometimes when he doesn't. So it's a tough business, and I've been
tough; it's the way to survive. But I've been fair, too. I've never
treated a guy who worked for me
differently because
h
e was black, and I'm no plantation overseer with a
whip. As for what we're talking about now, all I did-so I'm told-is call a
black man 'boy.' I didn't ask him to pick cotton, or ride Jim Crow, or shine
shoes, or any other thing that's supposed to go with that word. What I did
was help him with his job. And I'll say another thing: if I did call him
'boy-so help me, by a slip!
-I'll say I'm sorry for that, because I am. But
not to Newkirk. Brother Newkirk stays fired. Because if he doesn't, if he
gets away with slugging a foreman without reason, you can stuff a surrender
flag up your ass and wave goodbye to any discipline around this place from
this day on. That's what I mean when I say be fair
.”

"You've got a point or two there," Zaleski said. Ironically, he thought,
Frank Parkland had been fair with black workers, maybe fairer than a good
many others around the plant. He asked Mas, "How do you feel about all
that
.”

The union man looked blandly through his thick-lensed glasses. "I've
already stated the union's position, Mr. Zaleski
.”

"So if I tum you down, if I decide to back up Frank the way he just said
I should, what then
.”

Illas said stiffly, "We'd be obliged to go through further grievance
procedure
.”

"Okay
.”

The assistant plant manager nodded. -1bat's your privilege. Except,
if we go through a full grievance drill it can mean thirty days or more.
In the meantime, does everybody keep working
.”

"Naturally. The collective bargaining agreement specifies . .
.”

Zaleski flared, "I don't need you to tell me what th
e agreement says
It
says everybody stays on the job while we negotiate. But right now a good
many of your men are getting ready to walk off their jobs in violation of
the contract
.”

For the first time, Illas looked uneasy. "The UAW does not condone
illegal strikes
.”

"Goddamit, thenl Stop this one
!
"

"If what you say is true, I'll talk to some of our people
.”

"Talking won't do any good. You know it, and I know it
.”

Zaleski eyed
the union committeeman whose pink face had paled slightly; obviously
Illas didn't relish the thought of arguing with some of the black
militants in their present mood.
The union-as Matt Zaleski was shrewdly aware-was in a tight dilemma in
situations of this kind. If the union failed to support its black
militants at all, the militants would charge union leaders with racial
prejudice and being "management lackeys
.”

Yet ff the union went too far
with its support, it could find itself in an untenable position legally,
as party to a wildcat strike. Illegal strikes were anathema to UAW
leaders like Woodcock, Fraser, Greathouse, Bannon, and others, who had
built reputations for tough negotiating, but also for honoring
agreements once made, and settling grievances through due process. Wild
catting debased the union's word and undermined its bargaining strength.
"They're not going to thank you at Solidarity House if we let this thing
get away from us," Matt Zaleski persisted. "There's only one thing can
stop a walkout, and that's for us to make a decision here, then go down
on the floor and announce it
.”

Ill
as said, "That depends on the decision
.”

But it was plain that the
union man was weighing Zaleski's words.
Matt Zaleski had already decided what the ruling had to be, and he knew
that nobody would like it entirely, including himself. He thought
sourly: these were lousy times, when a man had to shove his convictions
in his pocket along with pride-at least, if he figured to keep an
automobile plant running.
He an
nounced brusquely, "Nobody gets fired. Newkirk goes back to his
job, but from now on he uses his fists for working, nothing else
.”

The
assistant plant manager fixed his eyes on Illas. "I want it clearly
understood by you and by Newkirk-one more time, he's out. And before he
goes back, I'll talk to him myself
.”

"He'll be paid for lost time
.”

The union man had a slight smile of
triumph.
"Is he still at the plant
.”

"Yes
.”

Zaleski hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Okay, providing he finishes
the shift. But there'll be no more talk about anybody replacing Frank
.”

He swung to face Parkland. "And you'll do what you said you would-talk
to the young guy. Tell him what was said was a mistake
.”

"An apology is what it's known as," Illas said.
Frank Parkland glared at them both. "Of all the crummy, sleazy
backdownst"
"Take it easy!
" Zaleski warned.
"Like hell I'll take it easy
!
" The burly foreman was on his feet,
towering over the assistant plant manager. He spat words across the desk
between them. "You're the one taking it easy-the easy out because you're
too much a
god dam
coward to stand up for what you know is right
.”

His face flushing deep red, Zaleski roared, "I don't have to take that
from you,
That'll be enough
!
You hear
.”

"I hear
.”

Contempt filled Parkland's voice and eyes. "But I don't like
what I hear, or what I smell
.”

"In that cas
e, maybe you'd like to be fired!
"
"Maybe," the foreman said. "Maybe the air'd be cleaner
someplace
else
.”

There was a silence between them, then Zaleski growled, "It's no
cleaner. Some days it stinks everywhere
.”

Now that his own outburst was over, Matt Zaleski had himself in hand. He had no intention of firing Parkland,
knowing that if he did, it would be a greater injustice piled on another;
besides, good foremen were hard to come by. Nor would Parkland quit of his
own accord, whatever he might threaten; that was something Zaleski had
calculated from the beginning. He happened to know that Frank Parkland had
obligations at home which made a continuing paycheck necessary, as well
as too much seniority in the company to throw away.
But for a moment back there, Parkland's crack about cowardice had stung.
There had been an instant when the assistant plant manager wanted to
shout that Frank Parkland had been ten years old, a snot-nosed kid, when
he, Matt Zaleski, was sweating bomber missions over Europe, never
knowing when a hunk of jagged flak would slice through the fuselage,
then horribly through his guts or face or pecker, or wondering if their
B-17F would go spinning earthward from 25,000 feet, burning, as many of
the Eighth Air Force bombers did while comrades watched . . . So think
again about who you're taunting with cowardice, sonny; and remember Fm
the one, not you, who has to keep this plant going, no matter how much
bile I swallow doing it
. . . But Zaleski hadn't said any of that,
knowing that some of the things he had thought of happened a long time
ago, and were not relevant any more, that ideas and values bad changed
in screwy, mixed
up ways; also that there were different kinds of
cowardice, and maybe Frank Parkland was right, or partly right.
Disgusted with himself, the assistant plant manager told the other two,
"Let's go down on the floor and settle this
.”