Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr (24 page)

BOOK: Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr
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The men no longer looked down 2nd avenue expecting to
see trucks. The incident wasnt forgotten, but the hope that it had
aroused—and the hatred that had revived their enthusiasm—was
irrevocably lost and they performed their duties as strikers
listlessly and hopelessly. A few of the men were able to get new jobs
and their books were voided. When this was announced at a Saturday
meeting boos and catcalls came from the clique, but the men were
silent, some envying them, others no longer capable of anything but
lethargy; and the men whose books had been voided were only thought
of, if at all, when the strikers joined the hundreds of workers from
the Army Base at five oclock walking up 58th street to the subway.

Daylight saving time was in its last week when the
company made the long awaited concession: They finally agreed to
consider allowing the union to continue the administration of the
Welfare Fund. But there were conditions. A few were with respect to
the amount of the companys contribution, certain aspects of
supervision in the factory, and a few other items that they both knew
could be negotiated easily; but they also wanted the right to
discharge Harry Black. The union representatives immediately leaped
to their feet and declared the demand unreasonable and unthinkable.
It was more than just a case of Harry being a member in good standing
and an able worker, but to even suggest that they would or could
violate the trust and welfare of the membership was an insult to
their integrity. Not only that, it was an insult to every union
member and officer in the country. They slammed their briefcases shut
and the two forces stood opposite each other haggling for many
minutes before the union representatives walked out.

The company and the union had had over a hundred
meetings since the beginning of the strike and had been meeting every
day, for many grueling hours, for over a month now. Although neither
side was, as yet, in a desperate position, pressure was mounting. The
union officials knew they couldnt allow the strike to continue too
much longer without a good, tangible, palatable reason to give the
men. There was too much grumbling; the men were obviously
dissatisfied and pressure had been slowly building up from government
agencies who might, eventually, investigate the reasons for the
prolonging of the strike; but now they had their reason.

Harrington recognized and realized that the men with
whom he was negotiating would see the plant remain closed for a year
rather than relinquish their control of the Welfare Fund and he was
perfectly willing, now, to buy them off—to offer a concession— by
allowing them to continue to administer it, but they had to make
concessions too. The pressure on the company was increasing, but
Harrington was determined to try to get rid of Harry Black and he was
willing to keep the plant closed for many more months in order to
accomplish this. The company could go to the end of the year without
losing too much, that had been definitely established by their
accountants and tax experts. Pressure was building up on the company,
but Harrington knew it was building up on the union too and so he
decided it was time to barter. He felt they would gladly concede
Harry for the fund which they obviously could not afford to have
checked. Even after the union officials had walked out of the meeting
he still retained this hope, knowing that they could not possibly
concede immediately, but would have to take at least a month, or
perhaps even longer, to devise a method to accomplish this within the
legal framework of the union.

Of course each of the union officials thought, at
first to himself, of a way they could get rid of Harry without making
themselves open to criticism: They could dump him easily enough and
give as an excuse that he was defrauding the union of money by
submitting fraudulent expense vouchers, or any number of other
reasons. Actually they could tell the membership anything and it
wouldnt be noticed if they told them just before that the company
gave in and signed the new contract. Nobody would miss Harry.

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 t v. 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 have all 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.

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