Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr (16 page)

When he finished he introduced other members of the
board who talked about what they were doing to help the strike and
their union brothers. When they finished the President introduced
brother Harry Black, shop steward and militant union brother, who was
to be in charge of the strike headquarters. Harry tried to look over
the heads of the men in the hall as he spoke, but was unable to keep
from seeing their faces so he lowered his head and closed his eyes
until they were open just enough to see his shoes and the edge of the
platform. Like Brother Jones toldya the unions rented a store for a
strike headquarters, you all the know the place its next ta Willies
bar and a free $10 bag of groceries will be given ta everybody every
Saturday morning for as long as the strike lasts and the place is big
enough for everything so that we dont have ta worry about it and
before we/re through with this strike the bossesll be on their knees
begginus ta come back. Harry turned, opened his eyes and tried to
find his seat but was unable to focus his eyes and he shook his head
from side to side trying to orient himself and the President came
over to him and tapped him on the shoulder and pushed him toward his
seat. Harry stumbled, knocked into one of the members sitting near
him and finally found his seat and sat down, sweat dripping from his
armpits, his shirt stuck to his chest and back. He lowered his head,
closed his eyes for a few moments and heard nothing until he finally
raised his head and saw the President once more speaking to the men.

Now you have some idea of
how hard we have been working for you to get everything in order for
the strike and have it setup so we can take care of everything no
matter how long the strike lasts. He sipped water then wiped his face
with his handkerchief. He just stood there for a few minutes, head
slightly bowed, listening to the men roar and when he noticed that it
was starting to subside he turned once again toward the men and
raised his hands, looking humble and worn, for silence. The men
quieted and he looked around the hall, slowly, still keeping the
humble expression, then once more started speaking. He reviewed the
preparations that had been made; told them that everyman had to put
in a couple of hours a week on the picket line and that his book
would be stamped after every turn on the line and if anyone didnt
have his book stamped that he had better be able to prove he couldnt
walk or his book would be yanked, we/re not going to allow any
scabbing—yells and cheers—and coffee and sandwiches will be given
to all the men on the line and explained a few more details of how
they would conduct the strike before putting up to the rank and file
whether or not they wanted to accept the companys offer or go on
strike. Just as he finished speaking one of the nonofficial members
of the clique made a motion that they tell the company ta go tahell
and go on strike. Another member seconded the motion and the
President yelled that a motion has been made and duly seconded. All
in favor say aye and a roar went up as some men murmured, a few
looked around confused, but almost everyone remained in the current
of the evening and added their voice to the roar after the initial
aye. The President banged on the desk, the motion has been accepted
by acclamation, banged the desk again and another roar went up along
with the scraping of chair legs on the floor as the men got up and
started pounding each other on the back. The meeting was over. The
strike was official.

* * *

Although the picketing wouldnt start until 8 oclock,
the beginning of the normal working day, Harry was in the strike
headquarters at 6:30. It was a small store that had been vacant for
many years and a telephone had been installed as well as a small
refrigerator, stove and large coffee urn. There were many folding
chairs around the room and an old desk in the corner. Against the
rear wall were dozens of picket signs. Harry sat behind the desk and
looked at the phone for a few minutes hoping it would ring and he
could answer it, local 392 strike headquarters, Brother Black, Shop
Steward talkin. It probably wouldnt be long before the phoned be
ringin all the time and hed be talkin ta the President and all the
other officers all the time about how he was runnin the strike. He
wished he knew somebody he could call so he could tellem how he was
there and what was goin on. It wouldnt be long before the menll be
showin up for the picket line. He leaned back in the chair and it
moved slightly. He looked down at the legs and noticed they had
wheels so he pushed himself back and forth a few times. He stopped
and looked at the phone again for a few minutes, then pushed hard
against the desk and the chair rolled back to the wall.

The first few men came a little before 8. Harry got
up, rolling back his chair, slapped them on the back and told them
everything was all set. The signs are over there. Ya can each take
one and start picketing the front of the building. Harry rushed over
to the pile of signs and selected three, giving one to each man,
trying to remember what else there was to do. The men started to
leave, then one of them asked when they got their book stamped. Harry
stared for a minute, book stamped, stamp. His jaw started to quiver
slightly. Ya gonna stampem now or after we finish walking. uuuuuuhhh
. . . They gonna be stamped after? A few more men came in and started
talking—book, stamp—with the men who were ready to leave with
their signs. No one was looking at Harry. He managed to turn and move
toward the desk. The books were to be stamped. Yes. He pulled out a
few drawers then he knew definitely what it was he was looking for. A
rubber stamp and a stamp pad. He pulled the big drawer all the way
out. Looked. Yeah, there it was. He took them out. I guess I might as
well do it now. Bring your books over here. The men with the signs
went over and Harry stamped their books. Any sonofabitch that dont
get this stamped is gonna get his ass inna sling. One of the men who
had just come in asked what was going on. Ya gotta get ya book
stamped before ya go out. He came over to the desk with his book out.
Ya gotta get a sign first, and Harry went back to the pile of signs
and handed one to each of the men. O K, now I/ll stamp ya books. Ya
oughta put a sign up so the guysll know. I was just gonna do that,
and Harry stamped their books and the men put the signs on and looked
at each other, smiling and joking. O K you guys, hit the concrete.
Its afta 8. And dont all you guys stay in one spot. Spread out and
keep moving. No standin still.

The men left and Harry went back to his desk and
stamp pad. He ripped a piece of paper off a pad and printed a sign,
get book stamped before going, and stuck it over the pile of signs.
Men continued to come in and Harry handed out signs and stamped
books; told some of them to go to the rear of the plant, and keep
movin, no standin still; and when the men came in or back from
picketing they poured themselves cups of coffee and stood around the
store, or out in front, and talked and joked. In a few hours Harry
started to panic with so many men around. Something inside his arms,
his stomach, legs, seemed to be tightening and caused him to grind
his teeth. He told one of the men to take over for a while, telling
him to make sure he stamped the books, and went to Willies next door.
He went to the end of the bar and had a couple of drinks and started
to relax. He stayed for a while, drinking, until the tenseness faded.
He left the bar and walked over to the picket line to see how things
were going. He looked scornfully at the cops who were there in case
of trouble and waved to the men as he walked around to the side to
see how things were going there. He asked one of the men if anybody
was around back and he said he thought so and Harry figured he might
just as well take a look anyway. He walked the block to the rear of
the factory and spoke to the men for a few minutes, reminding them to
keep movin so the fuckin cops couldnt have nothin ta say, then went
back to the office. He went back to the desk and resumed stamping.

The office wasnt as crowded now, many of the men
standing outside in the warm May sun talking, joking, enjoying having
a day off with nothing to do but hang around and drink beer and talk
with the boys; and others used the time to wash and polish their
cars, a steady stream of men walking through the office to fill
buckets with water.

During the day Harry made a few more trips to the
bar, staying outside after each trip to talk with the men and tell
them how they was gonna show these ball breakers who was boss. During
the afternoon one of the Union Officials came in and asked Harry how
everything was going. He told him he had everything under control. I
keep the guys movin. The cops aint got nothin ta bitch about; and you
can bet nobodys gettin in the shop except a few pencil stiffs. Youre
a good man Harry. Harry smiled his smile. And dont forget, if you
need anything just charge it to the union and put it on your expense
voucher. And dont forget to send your voucher in each week. Harry was
glowing. He nodded. Dont worry about nothin. We/ll break their backs.
The official left and Harry stretched out in his chair and smoked for
a while, talking occasionally to one of the men, then slowly once
more started to feel squeezed. He got up from the chair and walked to
the back and stood in the yard for a while and started to feel
better, but soon some of the men came back too, some bringing chairs,
others cards, and in a few minutes a card game had started and Harry
went back into the office. He figured hed go for a drink, then asked
one of the men if he knew of a joint that delivered beer around
there. Yeah, theres a guy down a ways on 2nd avenue. Harry called and
an hour later the truck pulled up and a keg of beer was rolled in,
tapped and Harry drew the first glass. Before the end of the day the
keg was empty and Harry called to have another one delivered, but was
told it couldnt be delivered before 5 so Harry said to bring it the
first thing in the morning.

By the time the picketing day ended Harry was relaxed
and joking with the men as they came in with their signs. When all
the signs had been piled against the wall, and everyone gone, Harry
stayed to have one last smoke while sitting in his chair behind his
desk. The tension that made him feel as if his body was going to
split was forgotten now. All the signs were back; the books were
stamped; the big boys liked the way he was handling the strike and he
had a nice whisky glow. Everything was going along just fine. The men
kept moving like they was supposed to and everybody was really workin
ta break the bosses backs. Nothin to it. Alls we gotta do is keep
that picket line movin and the shop closed and theyll be on their
knees beggin us please come back on our terms. The first day of the
strike was over.

Harry flopped at the kitchen table and tried to
ignore his wife as she served supper and asked questions about how
the strike went and how long would it be . . . She put the food on
the plates and sat down and started eating, still asking questions,
Harry mumbling answers. He glanced at his wife from time to time and
soon his body started to tighten and it continued until his body was
once more one gigantic knot. He felt like rapping her across the
face. He looked at her. She continued to ask questions. He dropped
his fork on the plate and got up from the table. Where you going?
Back to the office, I think I forget something. He rushed from the
house before she could say anything and went to the bar. He went to
the end of the bar and stayed there, alone, drinking, saying nothing.
After an hour or so he once more started to feel better and soon
became conscious of a few of the neighborhood guys standing a few
feet away. Actually what attracted him to them was a high pitched
feminine voice. It took a moment or two for him to realize that one
of the guys standing near him was a fairy. He looked at him, trying
not to be too obvious, lowering his eyes everytime somebody moved his
head toward him, slowly raising them again to stare at the fairy.
Harry couldnt hear everything he was saying, but he watched the
delicate way in which he emphasized what he said with his hands, and
the way his neck seemed to move in a hypnotic slowmotioned manner as
he talked and gestured. He seemed to be telling the guys about a
party, a drag ball, that had taken place last Thanksgiving at a place
called Charlie Blacks. Harry continued to stare and listen,
fascinated.

They stayed there for more than an hour, Harry
listening and ignoring his beer. When they left he watched them leave
hoping they were going across the street to the Greeks so he could
follow them in a few minutes, but they got into a car and drove away.
Harry continued to stare out the door after they drove away and only
the sudden blaring of music from the jukebox caused him to blink his
eyes and turn back to the bar. He lifted his glass automatically and
finished his beer.

He stayed at the bar until about midnight, the image
of the fairys face and hands still in his mind, his voice still in
his ear. When he finished his last beer and left for home he was
unaware of his body: partly from his preoccupation with the image and
sound, partly from the beer. The fresh air clouded the image
slightly, but it was still there. It was still there when he
undressed and fell into bed. He lay on his side away from Mary, but
soon Marys groping hand and voice forced the image to dissolve. When
she first started caressing him it was still with him and excitement
shocked through him. Then he became aware of her and there was
nothing but her and anger, the anger keeping alive the excitement. He
bolted around immediately and pounded on her trying desperately to
evoke the image and sound but it was irrevocably gone for now and
Mary groaned and scratched . . .