Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr (19 page)

When the strike was months old a call came from one
of the factories located in the northern part of New York State where
the final assembling of large units was being done. The contract was
a time penalizing one and if all the units werent delivered by the
specified date a $1,000 per day, for each day over the time, would
have to be defaulted by the company. The work had already been
delayed for three days because of various failures and breakdowns,
but the assembly line had finally been set up and half the factory
and personnel were geared to complete the work by the specified time.
The work had proceeded smoothly, and it was determined that the work
would be completed on time, when it was discovered that one of the
final elements, made in the Brooklyn plant, was missing. A call went
in immediately to the Brooklyn plant and a quick check of the records
indicated that the entire lot had been finished the day before the
strike started but, for some reason, had never been shipped. The
shipping department was almost empty so the crates containing the
needed parts were found quickly. A call was made to the upstate plant
and the information relayed along with a promise that they would go
out tonight.

Mr. Harrington cursed the men with him, but only for
a moment, then started calling small neighborhood trucking firms to
find one that would cross the picket line and deliver the material.
He finally found one who said he would do it and quoted a fantastic
price, but the manager had no choice but to agree and made out a
check for half the amount, the other half to be paid when the
delivery was made.

The men on the picket line were startled when the
trucks turned into the runway leading to the loading platform, but
only for a second. They yelled at the drivers of the trucks that they
were on strike and the drivers yelled fuck you. A few of the men
tried to jump on the hoods of the trucks, but fell; a few others
picked up stones and tin cans and threw them at the drivers but they
just bounced off the cabs. When the men tried to follow the trucks to
the platform the police grabbed them and held them back. The yelling
of the men on the picket line was heard by the others hanging around
the office and they came running; and a call was made from one of the
police cars for additional men. Some of the police formed a line
across the runway while others pushed the men back. Soon there were
hundreds of men yelling and pushing; those in the rear shouting to
shove the fuckin cops outta the way and get those fuck-inscabs; the
men in front screaming in the faces of the cops and being shoved by
the mob behind them into the line of police that was slowly
weakening. For many minutes the amoeba like mass flowed forward,
backward and around, arms and signs bobbing up and down over heads;
white gloves and clubs raised; red infuriated faces almost pressed
together, words and spit bouncing off faces; anger clouding and
watering eyes. Then more police arrived by the carsful. Then a
firetruck. Men leaped from the cars and were assimilated by the mass.
A fire hose was quickly unraveled and connected; a loudspeaker
screeched and told the men to breakitup. FUCKYOU FLATFOOT GO AND
FUCKYA-SELF YASONOFABITCH IF YOU MEN DONT BREAKITUP WE/LL RUN YOU ALL
IN NOW GET BACK FROM THAT RUNWAY YEAH, SURE, AFTA WE BREAK THOSE
FUCKINSCABSHEADS DERE TAKIN THE BREAD FROM OUR MOUTHS IM TELLING YOU
FOR THE LAST TIME, BREAKITUP OR I/LL TURN THE HOSE ON YOU WHO PAID
YAOFF YASONOFABITCH The line of police had been extended and was
pushing as hard as it could against the mob, but the men became more
incensed as more cops fought them and the voice threatened them and
they felt the power of their numbers and the frustration and lost
hope of fruitless months on the picket and food lines finally found
the release it had been looking for. Now there was something tangible
to strike at. And the police who had been standing, bored, for months
as the men walked up and down, telling them to keep moving, envying
them because they at least could do something tangible to get more
money while all they could do was put in a request to the mayor and
be turned down by the rotten politicians, finally found the outlet
they too had been waiting for and soon the line became absorbed by
the mass and two and three went down to their knees and then others
too, strikers and cops, and a sign swooped through the air and
thudded against a head and a white gloved hand went up and then a
club thudded and hands, clubs, signs, rocks, bottles were lifted and
thrown as if governed by a runaway eccentric rod and the mass spread
out, some falling over others and heads popped out of windows and
doorways and peered and a few cars parked cautiously or slowed and
observed for a moment and the mass continued to wallow along and
across 2nd avenue as a galaxy through the heavens with the swooshing
of comets and meteors and the voice that screeched now directed
itself to the firemen and they walked slowly toward the grinding mass
and a white glove clutched at a head and the glove turned red and
occasionally a bloody body would be exuded from the mass and roll a
foot or two and just lie there or perhaps wriggle slightly and four
or five beaten and bloodied cops managed to work their way free from
the gravity of the mass and stood side by side and walked back to the
mass swinging their clubs and screaming and a sign was broken over
one of their heads but the cop only screamed louder and continued to
swing, still walking, until his club was broken over a head and he
picked up the broken sign without breaking rank and continued and the
thudding of the clubs on heads was only slightly audible and the
sound not at all unpleasant as it was muted by the screams and curses
and they stepped over a few bodies until a line of strikers was
somehow formed and they charged the cops not stopping as the clubs
were methodically pounded on their heads and the two lines formed a
whirling heated nebula that spun off from the galaxy to disintegrate
as the strikers overwhelmed them and kicked the cops as they tried to
regain their feet or roll away and sirens screeched but were unheard
and more police jumped from cars and trucks and another fire hose was
unraveled and aimed the order given to open the hydrants and not wait
until the police who were whirling with the strikers could extricate
themselves and a few of the strikers noticed the second hose being
readied and then noticed the first hose and charged the firemen but
the water leaped forth in an overpowering gush and one of the men
took the full force in his abdomen and his mouth jutted open but if a
sound came out it was unheard and he doubled over and spun like a
gyroscope runamuck bouncing off the men behind him and bouncing to
the curb and those who were behind him were knocked and spun and a
few policemen ran frantically to the various street corners trying to
direct and divert traffic but all of the cars moved slowly no matter
how urgently the police waved them on not wanting to miss any of the
excitement and the voice screeched again giving directions and the
two powered battering rams were directed with knowledge and precision
and soon the mass was a chaos of colliding particles that bounced
tumbled and whirled around against and over each other and soon it
was quiet enough to hear the ambulance sirens and the louder moans
that spewed from the mass and soon too the street was clear of the
smaller debris and even the blood had been washed away.

The fire hoses were shut off and those who were
injured too seriously to move unaided were helped to the sidewalk
where they sat down and leaned against the buildings or were helped
into one of the waiting ambulances or patrol cars and taken to the
hospital.

The street was still congested with men, cars,
trucks, ambulances and onlookers. There were still hundreds of
strikers standing in small groups talking, helping injured strikers,
looking at the cops and waiting for the trucks to come out. Harry,
who had carefully avoided the fight, moved from group to group, his
shirt hanging out, hair mussed and face dirtied, cursing the bosses,
the cops and those fuckin scabs, asking the men how they were and
slapping them on the back.

The police too were concerned about the trucks.
Additional men had arrived and a barricade was setup to keep the
strikers away from the runway and the hoses were placed in strategic
positions. Again the voice told the strikers to breakitup and again
the men said FUCKYOU and remained where they were: eyeing the cops,
who stood behind the barricade, and the firemen with their hoses. The
voice told them they didnt want to use force but, if they didnt
disperse immediately, that force would be used. The men yelled and
cursed and started spreading out getting ready to charge the
barricade as soon as the trucks came up the runway. The voice told
them they had exactly 60 seconds before the hoses would be turned on
again and started counting. There were still 30 seconds left when the
first truck was heard coming up the runway. The counting was stopped
and the hoses were ordered turned on. The men had yet to take their
first forward step when the water hit them. The hoses were used
expertly and none of the strikers reached the barricade until the
trucks were almost a block away and then they just stood yelling and
cursing.

When the trucks were out of sight the men backed away
from the barricade, stood looking at the cops for a few minutes then
slowly walked away, going home or back to the office. The police and
firemen slowly gathered up their equipment and went back to their
various stationhouses. 83 men were hospitalized.

Some of the strikers going back to the office carried
the remnants of signs, some helped others still bleeding or still
dazed from the fight. The injured men were driven home, Harry telling
them hed see that their books were marked that they got hurt; the
others crowded into the office or hung around outside.

The men in the office were still yelling and cursing,
Harry passing out beer, telling them how he clobbered a cop—hoping
no one had noticed he avoided the fight—or how he just missed
getting hit with a club, but everyone was too angry to pay any
attention to him just as they had been too busy to remember who was
where during the fight. Harry eventually worked his way over to his
desk and sat down with a beer, extremely conscious of the noise and
wondering if there was something he could do. He leaned on the desk,
sipped his beer, wishing a thought would pop into his head. It wasnt
until he saw the President and a few other officials forcing their
way through the crowd that he realized he should have called the
union office. He leaped up and stumbled around his desk shouting that
he had been trying to reach the office and everyone was yelling and
crowding around the officials and they stood still and yelled for the
men to be quiet, for krists sake. How can we find out what happened
with everybody yelling. They all started yelling again and the
officials waved their hands and the men started to quiet and Harry
tried to force his way forward but one of the men placed himself in
front of the President and told him hed tellem what happened. I was
on the fine when the trucks came in. What trucks? All the men started
answering and yelling and the officials waved their arms again and
the man who had started talking yelled ta shuttup. I/ll tellem what
happened. We was on the line when all ofasudden these 4 trucks come
down 2nd avenue and turned down the runway to the loadin platform . .
. When the entire story had been told the President asked if anyone
saw the name of the trucking company and one of the men said he
knewem. Ive seen those trucks in the neighborhood, and he gave the
officials the name and told them where they were usually parked. Then
the President told the men that everything would be taken care of and
that no more trucks would pass the line and that they should go home
and take it easy and that from now on there would be someone watching
the street at all times and when anything, I mean anything and I dont
give a fuck what it is, tries to pass the line that everybody was to
haulass over to the line and block the joint. The men yelled, yeah,
we/11 show the fucks. But dont hang around the plant or the copsll
only start again. The law says you can only have so many men on the
picket line and theyll use any excuse they can to split your skulls
so dont givem the chance. Try and stay off the street as much as
possible when youre not on the line and they cant do a thing.

The President went over to the desk and made a phone
call while the other officials shook hands with the men and patted
them on the back as they walked them toward the door. The President
was on the phone for some time, making arrangements to have more
signs printed and making certain that they would definitely be in the
strike office by 8 oclock in the morning; then spoke to a few other
people in the union office and by the time he finished the office was
empty except for the other officials and Harry, who had been standing
behind him ever since he first picked up the phone.

Harry offered him a cigarette then fumbled for a
match, the President finally taking one out of his own pocket. Harry
tried to tell him how he had tried to stop the trucks, but was
interrupted by the other officials who started talking to the
President. They formed a small huddle, talking low, Harry standing on
the fringe, and Vinnie and Sal came in. Whattayasay Harry? I hear
yahad a little trouble. Yeah man, I hear we missed a good rumble.
They filled a couple of glasses with beer then rejoined Harry. Ya not
gonna letem getaway with that shit, areya? Yabet yasweet ass we/re
not. Dont worry, itll never happen again. If it wasnt for the fuckin
cops they never wouldve got pastus. Shitman, theres other ways ta
stopem. Yeah, smiling at each other and drinking their beer.
Whattayamean? Shit, all yagotta do—the President came over and
asked Harry who they were. Harry told him their names and said they
were a couple of the guys from the neighborhood. This is the
President of the union. Whattayasay. Had a little trouble, eh? Not
too much. You boys have something on your minds? Just a little
business proposition, eh Sal? Yeah. Like what? Like gettin ridda the
trucks. Is it worth 200 taya ta get riddathem? Do you think you can
do it without any trouble? Yeah. If theyre parked where that guy says
they are itll be a slopeout. The President turned his back to the
others, gave them $200, said goodbye to Harry and left with the other
officials. Sal and Vinnie split the money, finished their beers and
left. Another day of the strike had ended.