The Day Steam Died (8 page)

“You’re a grown woman. You don’t owe me an apology. I’m just so happy for you. Maybe now you can have your own life. Jerry is a good man. He loves Ricky and will take good care of you.”

Still delirious over his engagement, Jerry bounded up the steps to his mother’s house. He burst into the kitchen where he knew she would be waiting for him with a worried look on her face.

“Good morning, mom. I have something to tell you. Can I get you another cup of coffee?”

She was at the kitchen sink, cleaning up from breakfast. “No, thank you.” When Jerry went to the coffee pot, she continued. “Where were you all night last night? I almost called the police. I didn’t know if you were dead in a ditch or what had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he said, putting a fresh cup of coffee on the counter next to her, “but I think you’ll like what I have to tell you.”

“Did you spend the night with that Nestlebaum girl?” Her tone was bitter accompanied by her cold stare.

Jerry hesitated momentarily before saying, “Yes, and she’s not that Nestlebaum girl. She’s my fiancée. We’re getting married!”

“Back in my day a girl saved herself for marriage,” she said. “Those that didn’t were considered tramps.”

“Come on, Mom, this isn’t the thirties. I thought you liked her.”

“Change isn’t always a good thing.”

“If you’re worried about me leaving, you could always come live with us.”

“No, thank you. I’ll stay right here. I can still take care of myself.”

Jerry’s shoulders sagged. “I thought you would be happy for me. You were always saying how I was going to be an old bachelor if I didn’t settle down soon. Then when I find the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, you get upset.”

She turned from the sink and leaned against the counter, her arms crossed and coffee cup in hand. “I thought she was a fine young lady, raising a son by herself and providing a home for her mother and father. I’ll just have a hard time seeing her in a white dress.”

Jerry put up his hands in defeat. “Fine. She can wear a blue dress. We are adults and just because we broke one of your rules doesn’t mean we’re bad people. I hope you will come to see what a fine woman and mother she is. Just cut her some slack, okay?”

His mother curled her lips.

Jerry had put the last piece of his life’s puzzle in place and wasn’t about to let his mother spoil it for him. He would give Ann time to adjust to their marriage and his mother before asking her about adopting Ricky. There was no rush. He would be a good father to Ricky no matter what his last name was.

Chapter 13

“The world grew smaller with the rapid expansion of the railroad. World War I called on the best transportation system there was to facilitate troop movement and war supplies.”

Coastline strike

Discontent and rumblings of an impending strike among the Shops workers smoldered just below the surface. The union and its members were fed up with poor working conditions. Coastline hadn’t spent any money to make the buildings warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer or given them a decent raise in four years.

John Banks, now in his nineties, hadn’t visited the Shops since World War II. He was only a figurehead as president of Coastline Railway and seldom left the plush surroundings of his office in the high-rise building bearing his name overlooking the Potomac River in Washington, DC. John T. Banks, Jr. had taken over day-to-day operation of the corporation. He’d never been to Bankstowne and had no loyalty to the workers who’d made his father’s business so successful. He wanted to streamline the company and bring it into the twentieth century; the Bankstowne Shops were not a part of his modernization plan.

Coastline Railroad was already converting to diesels as fast as General Motors could build them now that they weren’t building as many Army trucks and tanks for the military. Once the crown jewel of Banks empire, Bankstowne Repair Shops were obsolete and a financial liability Junior wanted to get rid of. He gave Sam orders to break the strike and refuse all union demands. His success meant a promotion to Corporate Vice President in Washington, DC.

Since joining the Daily Journal after graduation, Rick had earned editor Carl Billings’ respect as a part-time special assignment reporter.

The final revision of Rick’s story on the restoration of the old Center movie theater back to its original appearance as a grand 1800s live stage theater by the Bankstowne Historical Association was complete. He covered his typewriter and headed for the typesetting room with clean copy in his hand. He was ready to call it a night when a shadow from behind startled him.

“Got a minute, Rick?” Mr. Billings peaked out his office door. “Step into my office.”

“Mr. Billings, I thought you were gone.”

“We have a pretty volatile situation on our hands.” After Rick joined him in his office, Mr. Billings took a seat behind his desk and sighed. “There’s a lot of serious talk about a strike at the Shops. Has your dad mentioned anything about it to you?”

Rick settled into a chair and set the copy on his lap. “That’s about all he and Momma talk about
these days. There hasn’t been a strike in more than twenty years, but I think they mean business this time.”

“You’ve done a great job reporting sports and local events. How would you like to tackle something with some real meat in it?”

Rick straightened in his chair then leaned forward. “I’d love to. I can work it around my classes.”

“Good. I want you to cover the strike. Can you handle that?”

Mr. Billings was giving him the chance he’d been waiting for. Writing sports was fun, and local events were easy, but he yearned to flex his growing journalistic muscle. Finally getting the chance, he stammered momentarily. “Mr. Billings . . . are you asking me to spy on my father and all the families and friends I’ve grown up with?”

Mr. Billings gave him a wry grin. “Of course not, son. I want you to be an objective journalist. A reporter covers both sides of the issue, no matter what his personal feelings are. He writes what he knows to be true, not what he thinks the truth should be. Talk to Bankstowne Railway people, the union leaders, and report what they say to the public, that’s all.”

Billings waited for Rick’s response, which didn’t come immediately.

“Look,” Mr. Billings said, putting both hands on his desk, “if you’re serious about being a newspaper man, you’d better start developing a thick skin right now because covering big news stories is tougher than school cafeteria food fights. We don’t get many big stories around here and this could really be big.”

Rick knew he wanted to be a reporter for a big city paper and this might be his chance to be read by people outside the county.

“Well, do you think you can do it?” Billings asked, tapping his red pencil on the desk.

“Yes sir,” Rick answered. “There’s a union meeting in the morning. They trust me because my dad has been a strong union member ever since he came here.”

“Good. Take this press badge.” He opened a drawer, pulled out the badge, and tossed it across the desk. “It should get you in any of the negotiation meetings or let you cross the picket line when the strike comes. Things are quiet right now while they spar to feel each other out. Management hasn’t made their final offer yet, but that’s when the fireworks will start. I want firsthand information. The strike will make statewide news and be picked up by the Associated Press. I’m depending on you for Sunday’s lead story, Rick.”

“I’ll do a professional job,” Rick said with an eager nod. “You can count on it.”

United Railroad Workers vote to strike Coastline Railway Monday

By Rick Barnes

BANKSTOWNE — United Railway Workers(URW) spokesman Clarence Saunders said Coastline’s offer of a five-cent an hour raise was unacceptable. “We have to work in those drafty, damp old buildings with no heat in the winter or cooling fans in the summer. Management refuses to spend any money to improve working conditions and now won’t compensate us with a decent wage. Our reward for tolerating those conditions that cause too many sick days is to take away two sick days a year along with a vacation day. That’s an insult.”

According to Coastline negotiator, attorney Anthony Gagliano, from Washington, DC, this deal is the best Coastline Railroad could offer under the current economic conditions. He explained railroads have experienced heavy financial losses in their passenger service to airlines and automobiles during the last ten years. And now the trucking and airfreight industries are taking away business as well. The wage increase is fair and reduction of sick and vacation days are an economic reality in order for the company to compete, Gagliano told the union representatives.

Tempers flared at the last negotiations meeting when Coastline refused to alter their final contract offer. It was clear they were at an impasse when the deadline passed Saturday at midnight.

“This is wrong and totally unacceptable and we’re through talking,” Union leader Sanders said and told management negotiation they would put up the picket line tomorrow. Saunders kicked his chair across the room and walked out of the meeting in a display of defiance.

The long-feared strike is on. Union members were told to report to the picket line at 6 am, according Saunders, and will walk the line 24 hours a day.

Gagliano announced Coastline will welcome back any employees that want to work and will fill any vacant position with non-union replacement workers.

Mornings were different now that Rick was a reporter for the Daily Journal. He and Roy had more to talk about, especially since the strike started.

Rick sat across the kitchen table, blowing on his steaming bowl of oatmeal and asked, “Daddy, when do you have to walk the picket line?”

“I drew the first shift for today.”

In an unusual recognition of Rick’s maturity, Roy shared his thoughts about the strike with Rick as an equal.

“We have to stick together and see it through. They don’t care about the conditions we work in or that Charlie Holden died from breathing paint fumes inside tank cars for years without a mask. There’s a lot that goes on every day over there that people don’t know about.”

Roy took a deep drag on his second cigarette of the morning. He’d switched to filter tip Winstons but still inhaled deeply and exhaled through his nostrils.

“Well, maybe my articles will let them know about some of those things. Your grievances need to be made public,” Rick said. “Printing the truth about your work conditions will put pressure on Coastline management.”

“You did a real good job on that story in today’s paper. Maybe it’ll help people understand why we’re doing this. But Johnson and his big city lawyers hold all the cards. We can strike, but they can afford to hire scabs to break the union. A strike was the last thing we wanted, but they just wouldn’t budge off a lousy five-cent an hour raise. That won’t keep most of us in cigarettes, much less help pay the rent or make a car payment.”

Roy doused his cigarette in his coffee and left it in the sink. He pulled on his denim work cap and jacket hanging on a hook by the door the same way he did every day when he was working.

On the picket line he and friend, Harold Birch talked about their chances of winning the strike.

“We’ve made our choice,” Harold said. “Now we have to stick it out and hope they come back to the table with a better offer. They’ll find out soon that hiring warm bodies off the street won’t be able to fix those old engines like we have for forty some years.” Harold held up his sign, which read:
On Strike for Better Pay and Working Conditions.

Chapter 14

“Some of Bankstowne’s young men went off to war to fight the Germans across the ocean in Europe.”

Scabs cross picket line

“Get ready, here come the scab buses,” Birch called out to the picket line. “Scabs, dirty scabs!”

Taunts were hurled at the busses until one of the scabs was recognized.

“Hey, Roy, ain’t that Randy Holmes?”

“Yeah, sure is,” Roy replied, disappointed in the young man he was training as an apprentice machinist.

A brick smashed through the front windshield of the lead bus and stopped the caravan. Strikers pried open the door and pulled the replacement workers off the bus, trying to get Randy, a Korean War veteran, who’d worked at the Shops less than a year. Three strike breakers were thrown to the pavement and beaten with fists and baseball bats.

Roy hated scabs for breaking the picket line but didn’t like the violence. It just gave Coastline a stronger position at the bargaining table. He and Burch stepped back from the fray and tried to get the strikers back on the picket line. The melee lasted nearly a half-hour before the out-numbered Bankstowne police and Coastline security guards could get the strikers under control. Bankstowne Police and Sheriff’s deputies struggled to maintain order at each shift change.

Violence erupts on URW picket line.
Tuesday’s headline sent shockwaves not only through Bankstowne, but also across the state. Rick’s daily articles gave vivid, up-close coverage of the strike violence. The Associated Press picked up the attack on the buses. Billings also received requests from Dan Jenkins, editor of Raleigh Times Herald for exclusives on Rick’s coverage.

“This ain’t good,” Birch said to Roy after their shift ended. “It’s been a week and Coastline ain’t budged an inch. Clarence said old Sam Johnson and that fancy D.C. lawyer just sat there like a couple of stuffed toads and told him how lucky we were to even have a job. They threatened to shut the Shops down altogether if we don’t give in on some of our demands.”

“Well, Harold, we just have to see what tomorrow brings.” Roy waved goodnight to Birch and turned off Fifth Street toward home where Mary Beth waited, hoping for good news.