The Day Steam Died (6 page)

Chapter 10

“The railroad became the lifeline to both North and South during the Civil War, moving troops and supplies quickly to the battlefields.”

A new start

Ann dropped out of school because Sam Johnson insisted she and her family leave Bankstowne before the Spring semester started. She didn’t enroll in high school in Winston-Salem, because she was pregnant. School policy didn’t allow pregnant girls who were showing to remain in school. She and Red were to go to work immediately at the Sam’s S & T Distributing Company in Winston-Salem.

Red had reconciled Ann’s pregnancy in his alcohol-crippled brain and accepted the move without resistance. They told no one where they were moving to; it was part of the deal Red had accepted in exchange for not filing rape charges against Tank. Sam wanted them hidden away where they couldn’t cause any trouble.

There were many perks in addition to the jobs and house. Financial support during Ann’s pregnancy and hospital expenses were taken care of by Sam when the baby came. He could afford to be generous and took no chances.

Sam never questioned whether it was Tanks baby. He knew how reckless his son was; he’d cleaned up Tank’s messes all his life. Nothing was going to stand in the way of his new enterprise and scheme to put Tank in the General Assembly and eventually into the governor’s mansion.

Ann had no work experience but was a bright student and learned quickly. Red kept his promise to stop drinking when they moved. Even he was aware of the toll it had taken on him. His memory was faulty and pushing a broom was all he was capable of doing. Without his liquor, he withdrew from the family, smoked too much, and watched TV every day after work until bedtime. Since Red never owned a car, a company car picked him and Ann up every morning. They never spoke more than to say good morning to each other.

The GMC van bounced over a railroad crossing next to the warehouse at exactly eight o’clock. A squat metal building with no windows sat in the middle of a ring of trees with a loading dock on the west side. A spur line off the main track lay beside the loading dock. Located in an unpopulated wooded section in the south edge of town, they were isolated with only one road in and out.

A scruffy, tobacco chewing man emerged from the front door and walked out to meet their chauffeured car. Ronnie Gaines, a no-nonsense, rough-around-the-edges former tobacco farm worker was the warehouse foreman.

He slipped and fell from one of the high beams and broke his shoulder while hanging sticks of strung tobacco in the top of a curing barn. The accident disabled him from the strenuous work of pulling, stringing, and hanging tobacco leaves. When Sam Johnson gave him a chance to work in his S & T warehouse, he became a loyal employee. Gaines made sure cases of cigarettes were removed from the delivery trucks to the warehouse without being damaged. He cast the same eagle eye over the forklift and loading crews when the cases were moved from the warehouse into boxcars quickly without damages.

The loading crew was all illegal Hispanic immigrants that stayed in a back room in the warehouse when not loading or unloading cases of cigarettes. A dark-skinned man dressed in a silk pin-striped suit with oily black, slicked-back hair watched every move inside and outside of the warehouse.

The front office was small and stuffy from a gas heater in the corner of the room. Ann entered cautiously, not knowing how she would be received or if the other workers knew why she was there. She was determined to work hard and keep her mouth shut, waiting for the right opportunity to make Tank Johnson pay for what he did to her.

Gaines escorted Ann and Red inside without introducing himself. He led them over to the office manager’s desk where a plain woman in her late fifties with graying cropped hair was smoking a cigarette.

“This here is Marie Wilson. Mr. Johnson said you can help her with filing, fixing coffee, or whatever she wants you to do. She runs the office and I run the warehouse. We come to work at eight, take a thirty-minute dinner break, and go home at 4:30. I guess that’s about all you need to know from me. If you have any questions, ask Marie. She can fill you in. I’ll be checking on you.” Gaines winked at Ann then motioned to Red. “You come with me. I’ll have to figure out something for you to do.”

The gangly foreman gave Ann a slow once over from head to toe, smiled, and then shuffled out of the office dragging his run-over-at-the-heel brogans with Red one step behind him.

“His name’s Ronnie,” Marie said. “Don’t pay no attention to him. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women. When he finds out you’re pregnant, he won’t come sniffing around no more. By the way, when’s the baby due?” Marie asked. “You don’t look very far along.”

Stunned by such a rude and personal question, Ann shot back angrily. “How did you know I’m pregnant?”

“Oh honey, calm down. There ain’t nothing goes on round here I don’t know about. Everybody Mr. Johnson sends here has a story or owes him a big favor. He pays better than anybody in Winston-Salem, and nobody gives a damn about what kind of business he’s running here,” Marie said, taking one last deep drag on the Pall Mall stub she could barely pinch between her thumb and index finger.

“That young buck son of his knock you up?” she said. “You ain’t the first one that hellion son of his knocked up. I heard the last one moved back to New York with a pocket full of hush money.”

Speechless at her first encounter with her new boss, Ann struggled with a response. It wasn’t any of her business if she was pregnant or who the father was. Better judgment told Ann to play along, to make friends with this person. She could be helpful in finding out about Sam’s secretive business.

“July fourth,” Ann said.

“What?” Marie lit a new cigarette from the stub of her old one before snuffing it out in the overflowing ashtray on her desk.

“July fourth. That’s when I’m due. Some Independence Day, huh?” Ann said. She paused for a few seconds then asked, “What did you mean about the kind of business Mr. Johnson was running here?”

“Pretty simple really. Not very legal, though. North Carolina don’t tax cigarettes but a couple of cents a pack. He has somebody paid off over at the Reynolds plant to lump his orders in with the legal wholesalers. The law don’t watch too close when he buys cigarettes by the truckload from Reynolds and ships ’em on that railroad where he’s some kind of big shot.

“My guess is those Mexicans Joey keeps hidden are illegal. They don’t speak English, so they ain’t going to talk to nobody. They live in the shadows, afraid of getting deported. They assemble the big boxes and pack them with small boxes containing cartons of cigarettes. An assembly line seals and labels the boxes headed to their destination. Most of them are sent to somebody up in New York where their taxes are ten times higher than ours. Some go to the Midwest. Anywhere he can make a profit. Honey, you’re looking at a tobacco goldmine here.” Marie looked Ann straight in her eyes. “You didn’t hear a thing I just said, okay?”

“Right. Not a word.”

“You look like a smart girl. Just do your job and don’t ask too many questions. We’ll get along just fine. And if Ronnie bothers you, just let me know. I’ll handle him. Well, now that all the pleasantries are out of the way, why don’t you make us some coffee while I figure out what to do with you?”

Ann started for the coffee maker, stopped, and turned around toward Alice. “There is just one question I’d like to ask.”

“Last one. Shoot.”

“Who was that man standing back there, just staring at us the whole time Ronnie was talking? He looked creepy.”

“Oh, that was Joseph Cordeleone. We just call him Joey. You don’t want to get to know him. He really runs this place even though Ronnie thinks he’s the warehouse foreman. Everything that goes on here goes straight to Sam Johnson. Joey’s the resident Mafia man.” Marie laughed, which launched her into a coughing spasm. She drank down the last half of a bottle of Coke that had gone flat sitting on her desk but never put down her cigarette. “He and I don’t get along too good, because I ain’t afraid of him or Sam Johnson.”

Chapter 11

“After the Civil War, railroads were the king of transportation, extended by the transcontinental railroad connecting the east to the west.”

Spring 1959

Life at the Nestlebaum house in Winston-Salem was a stark contrast to what it was back in Bankstowne. Red kept his promise to stop drinking, but it had already damaged his liver and he had become senile. For his own safety and the employees at the warehouse, he was forced to take disability. Although he no longer worked for Sam Johnson and was no danger to him, Red still received his paycheck every month. Most of his days were spent sitting in his favorite recliner watching TV. Occasionally he showed some attention to little Ricky when he chattered at Red in a language only he understood.

They lived more comfortably and could afford new furniture and a used car Ann could drive to work now. She enjoyed the independence from her domineering father, which allowed her to develop a closer bond with her mother. Little Ricky was the center of their lives, but Ann had allowed herself to enter a relationship with a young man she met at work.

They sat together as a family in their living room. Red watched TV with Jo Lee while Ann and Alice played with Ricky.

“Momma, you don’t have those stomach pains anymore, do you?” Ann said.

Alice shook her head. “Going on three years without much pain.”

“Since we moved,” Ann said.

“That’s right.”

“Think the move had anything to do with it?”

“That or this little fellow.” She picked up Ricky, who’d been playing with a set of blocks between the two of them.

At first they disagreed over naming her baby Ricky, but that had faded quickly with the loving disposition he showed toward Alice. She didn’t seem to mind taking care of little Ricky while Ann worked her way into more responsibility at the warehouse.

“I love little Ricky more than my own life. I wish your daddy’s mind was clear enough to remember him from one day to the next. But you paid the highest price, and I’m sorry I let you down that day. I just didn’t have the strength to face your father. Heaven knows what he would have done. I hate myself for letting him sell your soul to Sam Johnson.

Ann smiled. “Based on your health and the calm around the house, I’d say it wasn’t all bad.”

“That Sam Johnson, though. He’s the real snake, making millions from his illegal cigarette business, and nobody cares.” Alice broke into a coughing spasm, requiring her to handoff Ricky to Ann. Even though she’d switched to filtered cigarettes, she couldn’t get rid of her cough.

“Don’t blame yourself, Momma. You only did what you had to do. You couldn’t fight Daddy and Sam Johnson too.”

“I’ll blame who I please,” Alice said after she’d recovered from her coughing. “That Sam Johnson raised his boy wrong.” She glanced at Red sitting in his recliner, the TV’s images reflected in his glazed eyes. “I’m so thankful you and your sister turned out as well as you did.”

“But you’re wrong about one thing. Somebody cares. I’ve learned how to run that office, and Marie confides in me all the time. I know all about the double set of books, the millions of cigarettes he sells illegally, and how he hides the huge profits. I know everything that goes on in Sam Johnson’s twisted world.”

Her mother gave her a grave glare. “I want you to go back and finish high school then go to college. We robbed you of that opportunity, and now that you’re father doesn’t have a say in it . . .” Alice closed her eyes and sighed. “You need to get out of that place. I’m afraid you’re going to get into trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me, I don’t need all that now. I have a wonderful son who is my life. I’m making good money and we have a nice house to live in. Jo Lee wants to go to college, and I can help her do that. There’ll be plenty of time to make Tank and Sam pay for what they did to us. I promise you that.”

“I still worry about you in that place.”

When Ann shrugged in response, Alice took Ricky once more.

“I’ll read little Ricky a story and put him to bed. Why don’t you go in and visit with your father a few minutes?”

“Momma, I’ve tried talking to him. He just stares at the TV and answers yes or no, if he answers at all. He apologized in his own way when he stopped drinking after the move. I don’t expect anything more and I don’t blame him. Let’s just leave it at that, okay? I’ll say prayers with little Ricky after you read to him. I think I’ll read for a little while and turn in early myself. It was a pretty busy day.”

Winter 1959

Jerry Blackmon always had a smile and friendly greeting for Ann when he swung off the slow-rolling boxcar. His job was finished after cars were switched onto the spur line, loaded, and picked up on the main line.

“Good morning, Ann.”

“Hi, Jerry. It’s freezing out there. Have time for a cup of coffee to warm you up?”

Jerry was ruggedly handsome and carried 190 pounds packed on a six-foot-two frame. He wore a crew cut even though guys wearing long hair had become the latest style. Jerry stayed in shape by swinging off the bottom step of a boxcar to run ahead and throw the switch to the spur line leading to the loading dock.

Marie and Jerry were the only people Ann associated with since she came to work for Sam. Jerry worked for the railroad, responsible for cutting cars off the main line onto spur lines at tobacco warehouses in and around Winston-Salem.

Jerry was six years older than Ann, but she allowed herself to know him well enough to make jokes about the two toes he lost to frostbite in the Korean War. They shared coffee from his favorite Junior Johnson NASCAR cups and ate lunch together every day at the office.

Warehouse workers moved quickly in the cold winter wind to load boxcars. They looked like a line of ants trailing from the warehouse into the boxcar and back with a load teetering on the front end of forklifts.

“Watch what you’re doing, you idiot,” Ronnie shouted at an operator when the top box slid off his forklift that was piled too high. “You wanna keep that job? Then you better not let that happen again. If those cigarettes are damaged and have to be pulled, your paycheck will have a big hole in it this week.” His harsh comments rolled off the backs of the Mexicans who couldn’t understand a word he said.

“He’s so mean,” Ann said to Jerry as they watched the driver scramble to pick up the ripped-open boxes that had scattered across the floor. “I don’t know how those people put up with him. I knew I didn’t like him when I met him on my first day here.”

“It’s better than the work they can get back home,” Jerry said.

Ann shook her head. “How many cars today?” She always asked these kinds of questions about the business and played it as if she were just interested in the warehouse’s workings as an employee, but she filed every piece of information she could in her memory for later use against Sam Johnson. “Mr. Johnson seems to be adding another one almost every week now.”

“Yeah, I guess business is really good,” Jerry said. “He’s pushing to ship a million cases a week from here. I’m not sure the warehouse guys can handle an order that big.”

“They’re stretched pretty thin. If he is seriously considering—”

“Enough shop talk,” Jerry broke in. “When are you going to give up and go to a movie with me? It’s Friday and you don’t have to worry about a babysitter.
West Side Story
has been playing at the Capitol all week and will probably be gone next week. I know you like musicals, so how about it?”

Ann had kept busy, not letting Jerry or anyone get too close. She surprised herself by wanting to say yes to the first guy she felt comfortable with since Rick.

“Well, I guess so,” she teased. “Why don’t you pick me up around seven?”

“I think your gentleman friend is at the door. Why don’t you invite him in for a few minutes? I’d like to meet him and let him meet little Ricky.”

It was a cold November day. A clear night brought the temperature down after sundown like a falling rock. Jerry was dressed like an Eskimo, wearing a heavy coat with a fur trimmed hood and gloves. He stamped his boots to shake off a light dusting of snow that fell during the day before going inside.

“Mom, I want you to meet Jerry Blackmon. He’s the brakeman on the box cars from the main line to the loading dock at the warehouse. My dad is in the kitchen eating supper with little Ricky. You can meet him later.”

Jerry removed his heavy gloves before shaking hands with Alice. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Nestlebaum. You have quite a daughter here. She already knows more about running that warehouse than Marie ever did.”

“Why, thank you.” Alice gave him a good look up and down and smiled. “I’m glad to finally get to meet you. And this is my grandson, little Ricky.”

Ricky wandered into the room from the kitchen but kept behind Alice.

“Hello, little man.” Jerry crouched to get at little Ricky’s eye level. “What a big boy you are.”

“Can you say hello to Mr. Jerry?” Alice said. “He’s a friend of your momma.”

“Hello, Mr. Jerry.” Ricky ducked his head and ran back to the kitchen.

Alice watched Ricky go with a smile on her face. “Jerry, do you like children?”

“Yes ma’am, I love children. Hope to have a house full someday.”

“That’s wonderful. Ann tells me you moved in with your mother after your military service. That is a rare quality in a young man these days. You’ll make a fine husband for some lucky young lady.”

“Momma please, you’re embarrassing Jerry. We need to get going. We’ll be home by eleven.”

“Be sure you wear a heavy coat and boots. It’s cold out!” She hadn’t been treating Ann much like a little girl since the move, but perhaps it was seeing her dating again that brought that motherly aspect out again.

“Yes, Momma. Don’t let little Rickie stay up too late. In bed by seven, okay?”

“You act like I’ve never raised a child before,” Alice chided. “You two go on and have a good time. Stay out as late as you like. I can take care of things here.”

Once outside, Jerry took Ann by the arm and led her to his truck. He opened the door for her and shut it after she’d climbed inside, a big grin on his face.

Ann felt warmth in her chest thinking about him. He’d seemed to have some genuine affection for Ricky even in that brief moment, which made her feel safe around him. She’d allowed herself to grow fonder of Jerry than she realized and was beginning to move on with her life without Rick.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? I mean going out with me, not the movie,” Jerry joked as they crossed the theater’s parking lot toward his pickup truck.

The windows steamed up on the inside from their warm breath until the truck’s heater dispatched the frost. It felt a little odd having their first conversation away from the office and not talking about work.

“It was a great movie,” Ann said, breaking the silence. “I seldom listen to popular music on the radio anymore. Rock and roll is changing so fast. The music is so loud you can’t hear or understand the singer. I guess I’m kind of square for liking musical soundtracks and folk music, especially the Kingston Trio.”

“Not at all. I feel the same way,” Jerry said. “I have a huge record collection of all the great early fifties music. You’ll have to come over and check it out sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

The cab was cozy on the drive home. By the time they’d decided the growing popularity of folk music was superior to the new rock and roll, they arrived at Ann’s house.

“I had a good time tonight,” Ann confided when they reached the front door. Jerry was standing a bit close, so he probably wanted to kiss her. But that was rushing her too much. “See you Monday.” She gave Jerry a soft peck on the cheek before he could make his move then slipped inside.

She leaned against the door with her eyes closed. That final night with Rick flashed back into her mind, but it wasn’t painful anymore. It was a fading memory losing its hold on her. She wanted Jerry to kiss her and went to sleep knowing there would be another chance. It would be different next time.