by Patrick Lee
Katya heard Anna struggling and rushed into the living room. “Tom, get him out of here! Get him the hell outside!”
This time Tomas applied his strength and got behind David. He placed both his arms through David’s and locked his hands behind David’s head. David struggled but couldn’t break the powerful hold that restrained him. The screen door flew open. Once outside the two men rolled off the porch steps into the lawn. David yelled at the top of his lungs, “I’ll kill you. Let me up. I’ll kick your ass."
The same police officer that dropped off Tomas earlier responded to the domestic disturbance call in McQueen. When he arrived, a couple of neighbors held David down on the lawn in front of the Anzich home. Tomas knelt on David’s back and talked quietly in an attempt to calm him down. David cried and continued his loud barrage of threats and curses.
The police officer stood over them and asked, “What’s going on here?” He looked down at Tomas, “You been fightin’ again? I just dropped you off less than three hours ago.”
He faced the officer, “No, sir. I tried to calm my brother-in-law down, but he’s too drunk. He won’t listen and started swearing and swinging at me. Our neighbors here helped hold him down.
Another police car pulled up and stopped. This officer joined the crowd. “Need any help here, Eddy?”
The first officer unbuckled his handcuffs and moved closer to David, “Ya. Give me a hand putting this guy in the back seat of the car. He needs a night at the crowbar hotel to cool off.”
Inside the house, Katya spoke softly to her crying daughter. Her breathing stabilized, and her mother comforted her. “Don’t cry Anna. It’ll be fine. Your daddy drank too much whiskey today. He’s taking a ride with the police officer to sober up. You’ll see him in the morning. Everything will be okay.” Anna sniffled as she attempted to talk through the oxygen mask.
After the police cars left, Tomas thanked his neighbors, one-stepped to the porch, and entered the house. He walked to Anna and kissed her on the forehead. His smile and light arm patting tugged a smile onto her red face.
Katya sauntered into the kitchen and started to clean up the mess she made. The makeup she applied so carefully earlier smeared her face from crying. As she looked up into the mirror above the sink she noticed how her pale skin looked bleached and old. To herself she talked. She knew it was over with David. “I can’t do this to Anna or myself. I just can’t.” No tears rolled from her eyes. She used all of them up in the bedroom.
The next morning, Tomas got up early after another sleepless night. He made coffee, showered, and put on a fresh white tee shirt and jeans. The clock in the bathroom read 6:40. He walked outside and picked up the neatly rolled August 7th Sunday newspaper and sat on the bench on the porch. The aroma of the coffee saturated his senses as he prepared for the first taste. “I’m getting like my dad liking coffee so much. I never drank it until Shorty got me started.” A rich memory of sharing a cup of Shorty’s coffee on the bus ride up to the worksite blew gently before his mind’s eye. He wondered if he’d ever be able to drink coffee again without thinking of his partner.
Tomas set his cup down and slipped the red rubberband off the rolled Montana Standard newspaper. His eyes widened as he scanned the two-inch headline, Strike Offer Reached At Midnight. A subtitle read, Union To Vote On Tentative Agreement At Noon.
The coffee cup met his lips as he read the story.
Union and Anaconda Company officials would not release the details of the agreement until after the membership votes today at noon. If accepted it will end the 181 day strike and the longest strike on record since the 1934 strike.
Tomas continued to read the entire article. He wanted to wake his sister and somehow let his dad in Hungry Horse know that the strike would end soon. But no way to get a hold of him. “I wonder if he’ll want to come back home.”
His thoughts ended as he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. Kat poured a cup of coffee for herself and brought the pot out to the porch. Dark wrinkles under her eyes told Tomas she didn’t sleep either. She sat next to him and sipped her coffee. Prior bad experiences taught him not to bother her until after she took at least three sips of coffee. And some times not until after she finished her first cup. By the looks of her today, he planned to wait until she spoke first.
She refilled his cup and then her own. After a long drink, she spoke, “David and me are done. Yesterday was the last straw. I gotta take care of Anna. We’ll be gettin’ divorced as soon as we get it worked out. I’ll tell him before you go back today.”
She leaned against him and tightened her white sweater around her. When convinced she was finished talking, Tomas said, “If he’d stop drinkin’, would that make a difference? I mean if I could talk him into doin’ somethin’ about it, do—”
“Tommy, it’s more than that. A lot more. The drinkin’ is the big problem, but there’s more. I ain’t going to talk to you about it. We’re through. He can go his way, and we’ll go ours. It has to be that way.”
Kat had many of her dad’s habits. She finished conversations before the other person might be finished. For now it was over talking about she and David. He gently slapped the newspaper, “Well here’s some good news. Looks like the strike’s about over.”
She pulled the paper from his lap. Quickly she read the headlines and a few sentences of the story and hugged Tomas. “Thank God. It’s over. We got to tell Daddy somehow.”
“Take it easy, Kat. It’s only seven in the morning and he works day shift today. We plan to leave around 9:00 o’clock this morning. We’ll be in Hungry Horse before he gets off shift. I can tell him then. Okay, Big Sister?”
Through the haze of the ugly events from the night before and the worthless night of sleep, Tomas and Katya shared the good news on the strike. “Do you think Daddy will change his mind about all of us livin’ in Columbia Falls?”
Tomas finished his coffee and half-heartedly shrugged his shoulders, “I wondered that myself when I read the story. He’s pretty set on workin’ at building the Aluminum Plant and us gettin’ into a nice house. He wants to start over.”
“What do you want to do, Tom? Do you want to stay and live up there?”
He stood up, stretched, touched his toes, and held the position for a few seconds. He sat back down and quietly told his sister about his secret plans about the Navy.
Katya frowned and slid down a little bit in the bench, “What did Daddy say about you joinin’ up with the Navy?”
“I ain’t told him yet. Probably tell him next week sometime. I wanna finish the job on the Dam. If you move up, I’d like to stay around for a while until you and Anna got settled. That’s what I’m thinkin’ right now, anyways.”
Despite being told not to drive by the policeman who dropped him off at the house, David drove the entire two hundred fifty miles back to Hungry Horse. He and Tomas never exchanged more than a few words about the settlement of the strike. Tomas tried several times in the first fifty miles to talk about yesterday, but David made it very clear he didn’t want to talk about it. They stopped in Missoula for gas and used the men’s room. David never stopped again until he pulled up in front of the barracks in Martin City. Tomas went in and out of sleep during the five hours. After a terse goodbye, Tomas grabbed his travel bag, his pillow sack full of clean laundry, and walked into the barracks. David drove straight to Coram and the Dew Drop Inn. His friend Jackie set up a can of Great Falls Select for him and backed it up with a shot of Jim Beam.
CHAPTER TWENTY
W.R. Scalf removed his messy stack of bills and used blueprints from his corner table. As he walked the paper pile to his bookshelf behind his desk, he noticed his project bookkeeper and the federal auditor waiting in the outer office near his secretary, Mary Metcalf. The auditor called for this meeting to review his findings after completing his month-long audit.
Scalf waved the two men into his office and pointed his finger toward the small round table in the corner of his office. The three men sat down
, and Mary sat at the superintendent’s desk and prepared to take notes as instructed.
Scalf balked at the idea of a Monday morning meeting at 8:00 o’clock, but the auditor insisted. He arranged the white legal pad in front of him and looked at the auditor as he spoke, “It’s your meeting. Let’s hear what you got to say.”
The auditor precisely laid the paper-clipped papers into three neat piles. His pressed white shirt brought out the deep green color of his tie. Scalf glanced at the man’s lily-white hands and commented to himself that this man had never done a day of physical labor in his life. His eyes came up when the oral report started. “First of all, I have examined the daily, weekly, and monthly reports compiled by Mr. Winters here. He’s done a fine job of putting everything in order. It made my job much easier.” He released a smug smile in Winters’ direction.
Scalf nodded his head and patted Winters on the shoulder. “That’s my man Winters. Great work as usual.”
The top stack of spreadsheets contained wage disbursements dating back to May of 1951 and stopped at March of 1952. “These figures match perfectly and the wages, benefits, hours worked, overtime, and holidays are perfectly tabulated.” He meticulously set this stack to his right side and squared the edges of the papers so they sat perfectly square.
Scalf watched in amazement and reflected back to the previous auditor who came from pay offices in Anaconda prior to working at Hungry Horse. That man examined everything carefully, pointed out the problems and everybody went back to work. Now this new guy obsessed on how level his paper stacks sat. He shot a rolled eyes glance at Winters and came back to the auditor as he approached the second stack of spreadsheets.
He cleared his throat and covered his mouth with his partially fisted hand. “Now, I have discovered some problems with the wage and benefit spreadsheets from April of this year to the current month. There is a serious discrepancy between some of the wage earning sheets.”
Fred Winters corrected his sitting posture and sat up even more erect. “I beg your pardon. That cannot be. I spent countless hours matching timecards, wages, and benefits expended. There—”
“The problem is not in your work, Mr. Winters. Please understand that. My problems noted occurred in inaccurate time sheet completion. For some reason, April through the first week in August 1952 presents a substantial amount of hours worked without corresponding benefits and taxes paid. I’m sure there is a logical explanation. It will require you to do a serious comparison of every time card against the benefits and taxes not paid for that time period.”
Sweat rolled down from his armpits as he adjusted his black horn-rimmed glasses. Fred Winters nervously attempted to write down his assignment. The pencil point broke under the pressure of his fingers. “Damn it!” He quickly retrieved a newly sharpened pencil that rested next to his tablet. Again the lead snapped.
“Jesus Christ, Winters. We’ll run out of pencils if you don’t relax. Do you know what you have to do?”
“Yes, Superintendent Scalf. I, I need to compare time cards with taxes and benefits paid through the contractor’s business manager.”
“That’s right. Take a walk for yourself and get to it. When you figure it out, give me a call and we’ll take care of it.” He gently waved his hand toward the office door, and Winters took his leave.
“Mary, that’s all I need for now. Would you do me a favor? Call Al Sutter from the Hungry Horse News and ask him to drop by today or tomorrow? Thanks Mary.”
After Scalf’s secretary left the room and closed the door behind her, the auditor looked over his shoulder before he spoke, “Superintendent. I didn’t want to say this in front of Mr. Winters, but I think someone is falsifying a huge number of hours worked. You just need to be prepared for that because I believe your bookkeeper will find the source of the problem.”
“Holy shit! It takes you a long time to say something. Why all of a sudden does this happen? Things are Jake until April and then all hell breaks loose. You sure?”
Again he cleared his throat and adjusted the knot in his green tie. “I am positive. I paid an auditor in Kalispell to double-check my work. He concluded the same thing as me. Yes I’m quite sure.”
Once the auditor walked down the stairs from his office, W.R. Scalf dialed the contractor’s number. After the fourth ring he answered. “Hey Johnson, it’s W.R. How’s tricks?”
“Not bad W.R. What’s goin’ on up at the big house?”
He took a drink of his lukewarm coffee, made a face, and answered, “The federal auditor just paraded out of my office. He found some kind of a problem with wages, benefits, and taxes paid since April. I got my man Winters on it, and he’s gonna get in touch with your business manager to figure things out.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll let my man Hansen know the call’s coming. What did ya think of the auditor?”
Scalf blew some air through his smoke-stained teeth in disgust, “Strange guy. He fussed with his stacks of paper all the damn time. And it took him a month to say what’s on his mind. I think he knows the score all right. I’m generally happy when these guys come and go.”
“I know what you mean. How about a beer some night? There’s a new spot in Kalispell I’d like to try.”
“Good enough, Johnson. Take it easy.”
The roast beef sandwich and cherry pie his wife made from Sunday’s leftovers hit the spot for Scalf. He snapped the metal buckles closed on his worn black lunch bucket. Al Sutter stood in his doorway. “Did you save any of it for me?”
Through his wooden toothpick, he answered, “Hey Al. How ya doin’? Come on in.”
In typical Al Sutter fashion, he wore a blue-checkered short sleeve shirt. The patented white hat and red colored band covered his unruly mop of black hair. In his left hand he toted his speed graphic camera, and in his right hand he carried his well-used clipboard. Scalf noticed a freshly printed copy of the latest edition of the Hungry Horse News clipped to his board. Al Sutter enjoyed the ritual of handing Scalf one of the first copies of his latest newspaper.
“I see you brought me the latest copy of your rag. Anything of interest this time?”
In his very casual manner, Sutter gingerly unclipped the weekly newspaper, unfolded it, and took a final glance before handing it to the Dam Superintendent. “You’ll be real interested in this edition W.R. You most likely will want to hang my hide up on the back of your door. Like I’ve told you before. I cover the news.”
Scalf picked up his glasses from the white tablet on his gray metal desk. He accepted the newspaper and read the headlines and stared at the crystal clear photographs on the front page. In great detail, Al Sutter covered the accident that killed Shorty Davis. The chaos that unfolded that day a week earlier jumped to life before the Superintendent’s eyes. He focused on the photograph of the destruction the full concrete bucket inflicted on the construction area and on Shorty Davis.
Al Sutter joined his hands in front of him in a pyramid shape. He moved his lips close to his fingers as he watched Scalf digest the content of his writing and photography. Sutter noticed a lone tear slowly roll down the face of the man across from him. Scalf’s lips quivered slightly as he moved his eyes down the written page. Al Sutter knew he missed a golden opportunity for a special photograph, but he didn’t move a muscle. He respected the man too much to disturb him at that emotional moment. So many times he watched warm smiles cross this man’s mouth when he enjoyed a photograph that showed the Dam’s building progress.
Once Scalf gently set the newspaper down on the desk, Al Sutter sat back in his chair. “You’ll get calls on this one. People will want to know why the electrical system failed. I wanted you to have time to get ready for this. I’m sure the union people will want an answer and a solution.”
Without saying a word, Scalf motioned his head forward and nodded his agreement. Again he glanced at the telling photographs. The reality of a good man losing his life struck home. This part of the job haunted Scalf. Each time he sat with the man’
s family after an accidental death tore at his heart. To most people the reality of accidents and death on the job sometimes got outmatched by the sheer size of the accomplishment of building a dam. W.R. Scalf struggled to speak. For him, reality had set in ten minutes after the accident occurred.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As Mikhail waited for his son to join him for a late dinner at Rocco’s Supper Club, he reread the Hungry Horse Newspaper for the third time that day. He anxiously awaited the opportunity to tell Tomas the great news. The newspaper was folded once to the second page. Mikhail read the article that he circled earlier.
On August 10th, 1952, C.F. Kelly, Chairman of the Board, Anaconda Copper Mining Company, announced that Anaconda would build its $45,000,000 aluminum reduction facility two miles northeast of Columbia Falls near Teakettle Mountain.
The Company plans to begin producing aluminum before September of 1955. Initial construction will consist of two potlines with an annual capacity of 67,000 tons. At full capacity with five potlines and 120 pots per line, 185,000 tons of aluminum ingot will be produced each year. Employment at full capacity is approximated to be 550 people. Clearing land for the reduction plant will begin this October as President Truman throws the switch at Hungry Horse Dam to begin producing power. The building process will create over five-hundred jobs.
The Potline building will form the largest single building in Montana, covering 1,750,000 square feet or about forty acres.
Mikhail smiled and folded the paper. His partner Bud told him during lunch that he took a foreman job at the construction site for the Aluminum Plant. He’d agreed to begin once his work at the Dam was finished in early October. Bud invited he, Tomas, and Nolan to join him on his crew at the Aluminum Plant construction project.