Chapter 30
Daniel looked at Foster. The union leader' face was pale, his lips clenched. "You better tell the men to pull back, Mr. Foster. Those police are gonna ride right over'em."
"They wouldn't dare," Foster said tensely. "That would show the whole world what they really are. Tools of the capitalists."
"That ain't gonna he'p the strikers they beat up on," Daniel said.
"Maybe it will make the country wake up and pay attention to what's going on under their noses," Foster replied. He turned to the strikers and shouted. "Stand fast, men! Solidarity forever!" He held up his clenched fist, arm bent in a Communist salute.
"Solidarity!" the strikers shouted.
The sheriff turned and, followed by the soldier, went back to his car. The strikers began to laugh and jeer, thinking they had forced the sheriff to retire, A moment later, their laughter turned into instant panic and fear.
Without so much as a signal, the mounted police charged their horses directly into the front of the strikers, their clubs swinging and flailing about, hitting men indiscriminately. In less than a minute there were fourteen men lying in the street, semiconscious and bleeding. Unconcerned, the police drove their horses over them into the next rank of strikers. Behind the mounted police came hundreds of uniformed deputies swinging their clubs. More strikers began to fall in the street, and the screams of pain and fear began to rise over the noise. Suddenly the strikers broke and began to run toward the sides and the other streets. Relent- lessly the police followed them. Now there was a clear path to the gates.
Daniel saw the sergeant give the order, the gates begin to swing open. A moment later the guards came out at the back of the strikers who remained, they too swinging their clubs.
Daniel turned to look at Foster. The union leader seemed paralyzed, incapable of motion. "We better git our a.s.s outta here!" Daniel said.
Foster didn't move. Daniel turned to two of Foster's a.s.sistants. ''Better git him out."
The two men grabbed Foster by the arms and they went down the steps, dragging him around the comer. He moved with them unresisting, almost as if he were in a daze.
Daniel watched as the first truck began to roll through the steel-mill gates. Tiie blacks stood about fifty in a truck like herded sheep; their faces gray with fear. The sergeant came outside the gate and began waving the rest of the trucks in. Daniel came down the steps and moved quickly through the straggling strikers and came out of the crowd just behind the sergeant.
The sergeant was waving his billy club in the air, directing the trucks. Daniel reached up and picked the club from his hand. The sergeant turned in surprise. "What the h.e.l.l?"
"Howdy, Sergeant," Daniel said with a smile. Then before the sergeant had a chance to react, Daniel smashed the billy club full across the sergeant's face. The man's mouth, nose and chin dissolved into a mess of blood and broken bone. He began to fall. Daniel kicked him as he went down, and the sergeant fell backward under the wheels of the pa.s.sing truck. There was a popping sound almost like a ballon bursting as the wheels went over the sergeant's chest, collapsing the ribs and crus.h.i.+ng his spine, and when the truck had pa.s.sed, Daniel knew he was looking down at a dead man. Still holding the billy club in his hand, he turned away and began to walk slowly toward the side street.
A deputy sheriff came running toward him. He saw the club in Daniel's hand and took him for one of the private police. *'What happened back there?"
Daniel looked at him, ''I think one o' the trucks jes' run over some p.r.i.c.k."
'*Jesus!" the deputy swore. *'Did yuh ever see anythin' like it?"
*'Nope," Daniel said, and continued walking away. When he turned up the side street, he threw the billy club mto the gutter. He walked five blocks to the nearest saloon. Once inside, he ordered a bottle of whiskey all for himself. He took three quick drinks. Then the bartender came over to him. ''Know anything about how the strike is going over at the mill?"
Daniel poured himself another drink. *'What strike?" he asked. 'Tm a stranger aroun' here myse'f."
down from New York to help out with the campaign and see that the newspapers get a steady flow of stories about us." He paused for a moment. ''Good. The five hundred dollars will be a big help. I knew I could count on you. Thanks."
He put down the telephone and looked up and saw Daniel in the doorway. '*Where the h.e.l.l have you been?" he asked angrily. ''I've got men out all day checking the hospitals to find out what happened to you."
'Tm here now," Daniel said.
'You should have seen that we were better prepared for what happened," Foster said. That was your job."
''I tor you the best I could," Daniel said. ''You couldn't control the men. There was no discipline down there."
''Discipline?" Foster's voice was scornful. "They're workers, not soldiers. What do you expect from them?"
"Nothin'," Daniel said succinctly, "but better leaders.h.i.+p. It seemed to me like they was jes' bein' set up to become patsies."
Foster rose angrily. "Are you accusing me of deliberately sacrificing those men?"
Daniel's voice was even. "I'm not accusin' you of anythin'. I'm jes' tellin' you how it looked to me."
Foster stared into his eyes. "Where were you when the head of the plant guards went under the wheels of the truck?"
Daniel met his gaze. "Why do you ask?"
"Some of the men said they saw you near him just before it happened."
"Who?"
"Some of them." Foster was deliberately vague.
"They're full o' s.h.i.+t," Daniel said. "I was busy runnin' up the street behin' you, but it did no
"The police are bound to turn up here looking for you," Foster said.
'Tell 'em to go lookin' fer the men who put our poor bastids in the hospital instead," Daniel an-^ swered. "Right now the mounted cops is ridin' up and down the streets o' Hunky Town bustin' the head of any poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d who's standin' out in the street talkin' to his neighbors. By the time night comes, there ain't a man down there won' be afraid to come outta his house."
"How do you know that?" Foster demanded.
"I jes' come f'om there."
"How come I didn't hear about it before now?"
"All your a.s.sistants is too busy playin' important up here in the office to go out an' fin' out what's happenin'."
"You sound like you think you can do it better than we can," Foster said balefuUy. "Pretty smart, aren't you?"
"Mebbe I'm not smart enough," Daniel said. "I jes' don' know how things like this is s'pose to be done."
Foster relaxed, leaning back in his chair. "Well, take my word for it. We're handling it right. This is a big strike. It covers almost eight states. It's not going to be won or lost by one incident at one lousy mill here in Pittsburgh. Believe me, when the news of this gets around, we'll come out stronger than ever."
Daniel looked at him without answering.
"I'm going to put two or three men with you. Go out on the streets and bring me back written reports of specific police hara.s.sment. Names, places, times. I want to get this out on the news wires tonight."
Daniel nodded. "Yes, sir."
Daniel never filed the report. That night he and three hundred other strikers spent the night in jail. The two men whom Foster had sent with him developed good reasons to go back to the union office at their first glimpse of the mounted police riding up on the side- walk to roust three customers out of the chairs in a Hunky barbershop. *'We're gonna need more help," they said.
Daniel watched with contempt as they darted up the street. Then he turned and walked into the barbershop. One of the policemen, in the process of hauling a Hunky worker out into the street, lather still on his face, blocked Daniel in the doorway.
'* Where the h.e.l.l do you think you're goin'?'' he barked.
'To git a shave an' a haircut," Daniel replied. ''What the h.e.l.l do you think a man goes to the barber fer?"
"Wise guy," the policeman snarled.
Another policeman stopped near him. "Wait a minute, Sam," he said. "This guy sounds like an American, not like no Hunky." He turned toward DanieL "Look, feller, you go back to a barber uptown. This ain't no safe place fer an American to be walkin' aroun'."
"These men ain't Americans?" Daniel asked.
"They're G.o.dd.a.m.n Hunky Commies," the policeman said. "They're the ones that're causin' all that trouble over at the steel mills.''
Daniel looked at the Hunky standing there with the lather beginning to drip down the sides of his face. "Is that what you are?"
The Hunky stared back at him with a blank expression.
"See?" the policeman said. "The son of a b.i.t.c.h don't even speak English."
"He don' look Hke a man makin' trouble over at the steel mills," Daniel said. "He looks like some poor jerk who jes' came in fer a shave an' a haircut."
"What the h.e.l.l are you try in' to do? Make trouble?"
"No, sir," Daniel said ingenuously. "I'm jes' tryin' to git the fac's straight. Fer the record, so to speak."
"The Record?** the policeman said. "You a reporter with that newspaper?"
Daniel looked at him, '*You mought say that. Fm down here try in' to find out what's goin' on."
''Well, you just mosey right back to that rag newspaper of yours an' tell 'em to mind their own f.u.c.kin' business!"
''Why, Officer, ain't you never heard o' the freedom o' the press?" Daniel asked sarcastically.
The policeman shook his nightstick under Daniel's nose. "You just haul your a.s.s outta here real quick, or I'll give you a taste of this here freedom."
Daniel looked at him for a moment, letting his eyes deliberately wander down over the policeman's blouse and looking at his s.h.i.+eld. "Yes, sir," he said, backing out of the doorway. "I'll go right back to the paper an' tell 'em what I saw."
"You didn't see nothin'," the policeman said.
"That's right," Daniel said, still backing out. "I didn' see nothin'. That's jes' what I'm gonna tell 'em back at the office."
He saw the look flash between the two policemen. He moved quickly, but he had forgotten about the third man in the street. A nightstick creased his skull, and when he came to, he was in the tank with about sixty Hunkies.
The Hunky he had seen in the barbershop was sitting next to him. Daniel turned his head and tried to sit up. A groan escaped him.
The Hunky turned and put an arm under his shoulders, helping him sit up, his back against the wall. "Okay?" the Hunky asked.
"Okay." He rubbed the back of his head. There was a b.u.mp back there the size of a duck's egg. "How long was I out?"
The Hunky looked blank. Then he remembered: the man did not speak English. He moved his head slowly, looking around. Most of the men seemed to be sleeping or trying to sleep. None of them were talking.
"What time is it?" he asked, making a gesture as if he were looking at a watch.
The Hunky nodded and held up two fingers. Two o'clock in the morning. The Hunky stuck his hand in his pocket and came out with a pack of cigarettes. He took one out and carefully broke it in half, offering half to Daniel. Daniel took it, and the Hunky lit both of them with one match. Daniel sucked on the cigarette, its acrid smoke helping to clear his head.
''They'll let us out in the momin'," he said.
The Hunky didn't answer. Just nodded.
"Where's the toilet?" he asked.
That the Hunky understood. He pointed across the room, then held his nose with two fingers and shook his head.
Daniel looked across the cell. There was one toilet in the comer, and there were fifty men at least in the cell. Daniel knew what the Hunky meant and didn't even bother to get up. He could wait. He finished the clincher, then leaned his head back against the wall and dozed.
The next time he opened his eyes, daylight was streaming through the small cell window and two policemen were standing outside the cell, the door open, and shouting, "Okay, you Hunky b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, you're getting out."
Silently they filed past the policeman and left the building through a small side door leading into an alley. For a moment, the men shuffled around, looking at each other; then, without conversation, they scattered, each toward his own home.
Daniel held out his hand to the Hunky. "Thanks," he said.
The Hunky smiled, taking it. He said something in a foreign language while shaking Daniel's hand vigorously.
Daniel didn't know what the man was saying, but felt the warmth both in his hand and in the man's smile. He smiled. "Good luck."
The Hunky nodded again, then hurried off down the street, and Daniel headed for the union office. He pa.s.sed a diner, and suddenly he realized he was hun-gry. He went inside, sat down at the counter and ordered a big breakfast.
The girl behind the counter looked at him and smiled. 'Til hold the eggs for a few minutes if you want to wash up first."
''Okay," he said. He made his way to the washroom, but it wasn't until he looked in the mirror that he understood why she had made the offer. There was blood caked across part of his cheek and in his hair and down the side and back of his neck. Rapidly he washed, drying himself on the roller towel. Breakfast was ready just as he came out.
The waitress smiled at him. "It must have been a h.e.l.l of a fight."
He shook his head ruefully. "I never saw what hit me.
She put a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. "Ain't that the truth?" she said, "n.o.body ever does."
with a handful of notes. '*But I'm not complaining. It's sweet, clean p.u.s.s.y, and they all put out for the cause. That's another way they have of demonstrating their solidarity with the workers."
Daniel grinned, watching the girl. ''I see what you mean. Is Foster in 'is office?"
''He should be. They're getting ready to go over to the picket line at the mill for photographs. Mother Jones and Maurer are already over there."
Daniel walked down the corridor to Foster's office and went in. Foster and Phil Murray were alone in the office. Foster looked up, an expression of annoyance on his face.
"' 'Scuse me," Daniel said, starting to back out the door, "I thought you was alone."
It was Phil Murray who spoke. ''Come in," he said. *'We were just talking about you."
Daniiel closed the door behind him and stood there.
'The police were here last night and earlier this morning looking for you," Foster said.
Daniel grinned. "They should have looked in the Fifth Street jail. They had me in the tank there all night."