Memories of Another Day

by Harold Robbins

  “Mr. Lansky.” Daniel held out his hand.

  Lansky’s grip was light but firm. He went to the bar and poured himself a glass of orange juice. He sipped it slowly and looked at Daniel. “Florida oranges. You can’t beat them. I have them squeezed fresh every hour.”

  Daniel nodded and followed him to a couch, then sat down opposite him. “How are you feeling, Mr. Lansky?”

  “Better, but not that good.” He tapped his chest. “The old ticker isn’t what it should be.”

  “You’ll live to piss on all our graves,” Daniel said.

  Lansky smiled wanly. “If they don’t bother me I’ll be okay, but they’re always pushing.”

  “One of the dangers of success,” Daniel said.

  Lansky nodded, his voice suddenly turning firm. “I heard you have big problems.”

  “That’s right,” Daniel said.

  “I told you that would happen four years ago. I warned you that when the AFL and CIO merged, you would be out of business.”

  “You did.”

  “You should have listened to me.” Lansky sounded as if he were reprimanding a recalcitrant child.

  Daniel didn’t answer.

  “No point looking back,” Lansky said. “What’s the situation now?”

  Quickly Daniel brought him up to date. When he had finished, Lansky nodded his head wisely. “Your idea is a good one, but Hoffa and Boyle don’t really need you. Respectability don’t mean a shit to them. They’re both street fighters. They’re going to need some persuasion to help them make up their minds to go along with you.”

  “A good word from you might be all that’s needed,” Daniel said.

  Lansky nodded. “Maybe. But you have other problems. Even if they go with you, where does the money come from? Dues alone are not enough to pay the freight.”

  “If they buy my plan, we’ll have a good portion of their pension-fund administration and insurance.”

  “They won’t turn it over to you completely.”

  “No,” Daniel said. “I didn’t suggest that. Only that we become coadministrators. There will be enough there for everyone to play with.”

  Lansky was silent for a moment. “And where do I fit in?”

  Daniel began to feel more confident. Lansky knew damn well how he could fit in. He had insurance companies, banks, construction companies all under his thumb. He took his best shot. “If I have to explain that, Mr. Lansky, then I’ve wasted my trip down here.”

  Lansky was silent for a moment. “The word is out that you’re having a meeting at the White House.”

  Daniel nodded. There seemed to be very little that Lansky had not heard. “Breakfast September sixth with the President.”

  “You spoke to Adams?”

  Again Daniel nodded.

  Lansky’s voice was approving. “Good contact. Stay close to him.”

  “I plan to,” Daniel said.

  Lansky was silent for a while. “Eisenhower will get in again. You can be sitting pretty if you play your cards right.”

  “I’ve got my fingers crossed.”

  Lansky laughed for the first time. It was a dry, almost mirthless chuckle. “You seem very relaxed for a man on the edge of disaster.”

  Daniel laughed aloud as he poured himself another drink. This time he didn’t add water. “The worst thing could happen is that I fall off.”

  Lansky looked at him. “How much do you think you’ll need?”

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand. That will carry us for a year until things start falling into place.”

  “It’s a lot of money.”

  “It’s cheap considering the table stakes. UMW’s pension fund must have more than sixty million dollars in it already, and the Teamsters’ can’t be far behind. Commissions on just twenty percent of that can bring in better than two million a year.”

  Lansky had made up his mind. “Okay. You got it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Lansky.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Lansky said quietly. “Just remember the rules. We’re partners. Fifty-fifty.”

  “Too much,” Daniel said. “There’s no way I can wash that much money and not get picked up.”

  “How much do you think you can handle?”

  “Twenty-five percent.”

  “That’s not much.”

  “Maybe,” Daniel said. “But it’s your companies that will be doing business. There’s heavy leverage right there.”

  Lansky thought for a moment. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Not hard,” Daniel said. “Just practical. Both of us have enough trouble as it is. We don’t have to look for any more.”

  “Deal,” Lansky said. He pressed a button on the side of the couch. A moment later, the tall man who had met Daniel at the airport came into the room, carrying a black attaché case. He placed it on the coffee table between them and left the room. Lansky gestured. “Open it.”

  Daniel pressed the buttons and the case flew open. The inside was neatly packed with rows of bills, still encased in their original bank wrappers. He glanced at Lansky.

  “A quarter of a million dollars,” Lansky said casually. “You can count it.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Daniel said, closing the case. He rose to his feet. “You had it all ready, Mr. Lansky.”

  Lansky smiled. “I have to. Never can tell when an opportunity might come along.”

  Chapter 4

  Michael Rourke looked up from his Sunday newspaper as his daughter came into the room. He noticed she was wearing a new dress and had put on fresh makeup. “Going out tonight?” he asked.

  Margaret nodded. “I’ve got everything ready. The roast is in the oven. It will be ready by six o’clock. The kids know when to take it out.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Big Dan?”

  “Yes.”

  He put down the newspaper. “Did you read where he met with the President at the White House this week?”

  “He told me about it,” she said.

  “You saw him?”

  “Thursday night. Remember, I told you I was having dinner out.”

  “You didn’t get home until after midnight. You didn’t tell me you were having dinner with him.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it, Daddy. He’s a very nice man.”

  “He’s older than I am.”

  “If you talked to him, you wouldn’t think so. He’s so interested in everything.”

  “I don’t like it,” her father said. “I think you’re seeing too much of him. You ought to be going out with more boys of your own age.”

  “Boys of my own age don’t interest me, Daddy. They’re so immature. And all they want from you is one thing.”

  “And he doesn’t?”

  “He’s been a perfect gentleman.”

  He shook his head. “Did he say anything about a job for me?”

  “Only that he’s working on it and expects something real soon.”

  “Sure,” he said sarcastically.

  Margaret looked down at her father. “Don’t you believe him? Why should he lie?”

  “Because he wants to get into your young hot pants, that’s why,” Michael said bitterly.

  “Daddy!” she said sharply.

  “Don’t Daddy me,” he said. “You know as well as I do that’s what he wants.” He looked up at her shrewdly. “And maybe that’s what you want too.”

  “I won’t listen to you talking like that,” she said. She started from the room.

  “Margaret!” he called after her.

  She turned at the doorway. “Yes?”

  “I didn’t mean it the way it sounds,” he said apologetically. “It’s just that I’m worried about you. I told you about his reputation. His drinking, and all those women. I don’t want you to become just another one of his women, that’s all. I don’t want to see you hurt, girl.”

  “I’m not a child anymore, Daddy,” she said in a stiff voice. “I can look after myself.”

  He stared at her fo
r a moment, then picked up the paper again. “Okay,” he said. “Just remember that I warned you.”

  The door closed behind her, and he stared into the corruption of futility. If only he could get around as he used to, it wouldn’t be like this. But there was nothing he could do. The whole of the burden was on her shoulders—the house, the other children. Maybe she was right. She wasn’t a child anymore. She didn’t have the time.

  ***

  John L. Lewis sat in the chair behind the massive desk in the heavy oak-paneled office, the windows behind him looking over the white marble buildings of government in downtown Washington. Dressed as usual in a heavy dark suit, stiff white collar and tie, he reflected a stolid, single-purposed sense of power. On either side of his desk were his two chief aides—Tom Kennedy, now approaching seventy, with white hair and gentle manner, and Tony Boyle, young, aggressive and pushing. Daniel looked at the two men. Kennedy, thinking and planning, meticulous in his approach; Boyle, flamboyant, using power and strength to bulldoze his way through opposition. And at the center was John L., who was equal to the two of them; he was all the things they were and more, with an aura of natural leadership that brooked no refusal.

  Lewis was talking. “The TVA is the largest coal customer in the world. Because of their inexhaustible demand, we are faced with the countless number of independent mines opening without union contracts and selling coal below the prices fixed by the union mines. Not only does this cause union mines to sell less coal, but it affects workers who are laid off who are union members and creates jobs for many who are not.

  “We have exhausted every reasonable means of request for the government’s assistance in this problem, and our pleas have fallen upon deaf ears. The situation is steadily growing more desperate and, if it continues, threatens the entire backbone of the union structure built so laboriously by us over the years. If we allow this situation to continue, I can foresee the time when our members will question themselves as to the benefit of remaining with us. If that time should come, it will be the end of the United Mine Workers as we know it.”

  Kennedy nodded solemnly without speaking. Boyle was more positive. “We have no choice. We have to hit them with everything we’ve got.”

  Daniel looked at him. “The violence did you no good in District 19 in ’46 and ’47, nor did it do any good in District 23 from ’48 to ’52. All we succeeded in doing was forcing the closing of the mines that signed with the union because the price of coal climbed out of the economics of doing business. Even UMW financial participation in some of the mines did not prevent their bankruptcy, causing the union to lose not only membership but a great deal of money as well as prestige. And we still don’t know what liabilities the courts will assess the union as damages in the lawsuits against us due to the activities of those years. If all the potential liabilities are assessed, the union will be bankrupted and shut down as effectively as if every member resigned in one day.”

  Boyle was belligerent. “You have a better idea? What are we supposed to do? Lay down while those scabs and operators put the shaft to us?”

  “I haven’t an idea right now,” Daniel said. “But I know what you can’t do. This is an election year. We can’t afford to do anything that would force Eisenhower into taking a position against us, which he will do if he has to in order to maintain his support from the conservatives.”

  “What you’re saying, then, is wait?” Boyle asked.

  “That’s right,” Daniel said flatly.

  “Then what the hell do we need you for?” Boyle asked irately. “You were asked down here to come up with some answers for us.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Daniel said. “I never said I had any answers. And you are right. You asked for the meeting. I didn’t.” He got to his feet. “Mr. Lewis, it’s always an honor to see you.”

  John L. scowled up at him. “Sit down, Daniel. I didn’t say that the meeting was over.” He waited until Daniel had returned to his seat. “The one thing that came out of our meeting with the President was the impression I got that he has an extremely high regard for you.”

  Daniel was silent.

  “I think it would go a long way to establish our credibility with the government if we could find a way to work together. I think an announcement that UMW had signed with CALL to engage in a number of feasibility studies covering new organizing, pension-planning, health and welfare programs would go a long way to convince the President that we’re not engaged in reckless behavior.”

  Daniel looked directly at the old man. “What you mean is that we create a smoke screen behind which you can continue on your own path.”

  Lewis cleared his throat. “That’s putting it rather vulgarly.”

  “But it’s the truth.”

  Lewis looked at his associates, then nodded. “Yes.”

  “Mr. Lewis, you know my reputation,” Daniel said. “I’m not noted for remaining silent when I feel strongly about what is good for the union member.”

  “We’ll take that chance,” Lewis said. “Don’t forget that I too have fought all my life for the betterment of the workingman. We may have differences of method and opinion, but none of motivation. And in the final run, the decision must still remain the right of the union which employs your services.”

  “Mr. Lewis, I thank you for the opportunity, and it’s an honor for me to be of service to you and the UMW.” Daniel held out his hand. “When do you want us to start?”

  Lewis took his hand, smiling. “Yesterday. You work out the details with Tony and Tom.”

  Boyle followed him out to his car. “You’re going to be working with me—you know that.”

  “I know that.”

  “It was my idea. John L. went for it, hook, line and sinker. He’s getting old. All he wants to do now is keep his hands clean.”

  “I’ll help him do that,” Daniel said. “But I can’t keep them away from the financial deals. He’s got the union into too many things. The National Bank in Washington, West Kentucky Coal and the Nashville Coal companies, all bought with union money out of the pension and welfare funds. Sooner or later, the government is going to get into that, and when it comes, it could spell disaster. It isn’t only the union-sponsored organizing campaigns that he has to think about.”

  “Are you going to tell him?” Boyle asked.

  “In due time,” Daniel said.

  “He won’t like it.”

  “I can’t help that,” Daniel said. “He asked me to help him. I’ll try to do that. He also told me that he will still do exactly what he wants. I got the message.”

  “And what we talked about. That hasn’t changed?”

  Daniel looked at him. “No change. I’ll be working with you to see that you become the president. But I’ll give you some free advice right now. You’re not John L., and you never will be. That means you won’t be able to get away with ninety percent of what he does. When he dies, the shit’s going to hit the fan. You better see to it that you stand there with clean hands.”

  “You leave that to me,” Boyle said confidently. “I know what I have to do. You can’t run this union by being Mr. Nice Guy.”

  “I’m not arguing,” Daniel said. “Just some friendly advice.”

  “The first thing I’d like you to do is send a team down to Middlesboro and get us a report on all the new mines and tipples that are springing up all over the area. We’ll need estimates on their production and labor force. I have a feeling if we don’t get on it real soon, they’ll undercut the sales of the union-operated mines to the TVA to practically nothing.”

  “I’ll get on it,” Daniel said. He got into his car. “It will take money.”

  “You tell me how much,” Boyle said. “And you get it the next morning.”

  Chapter 5

  She was waiting in the street in front of his office building as he pulled his car to a stop at the curb. He got out of the car and walked toward her. “Why didn’t you go inside?” he asked.

  “Your office
was locked and there was no one there.”

  “You could have waited in the reception room.”

  “The girl there was leaving, and she said they didn’t know if you were coming back.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, opening the door and holding it for her. They walked up the stairs to the second-floor offices. “Been waiting long?”

  “Since six o’clock.”

  He glanced at the wall clock. It was after seven. “I was stuck at a meeting.” He took a key from his pocket and opened the door. She followed him into his office. He went to his desk and took out the bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a drink.

  “I didn’t mind waiting,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t forget.”

  He swallowed the drink. “I should have called.”

  “I didn’t mind. Really.”

  He smiled at her. “You look very pretty today.”

  She felt the heat rising in her face. “Thank you.”

  “I think I’ve got a job for your father if he’s interested. We’re getting busy here, and we could use a night man to keep an eye on the place and cover the telephones.”

  She smiled. “I think he’ll be real pleased.”

  “The hours are long. Seven at night until seven in the morning.”

  “He won’t mind.”

  “You bring him next week and have him see Mr. Barrington. He’ll arrange everything.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Huggins.”

  He poured another drink. “Isn’t it about time you called me Daniel?”

  She was suddenly shy. “If you want me to.”

  “I want you to, Margaret.”

  She was almost whispering. “Okay, Daniel.”

  “That’s better,” he said. “I have a few calls to make. Are you in a hurry for dinner?”

  “I have time.”

  He picked up the telephone and dialed a number. Moses answered the call. “Barrington.” Behind his voice came the shouts of children.

  “Am I interrupting dinner?”

  “Not yet,” Moses answered. “That’s why you hear the kids hollering.”

  “I won’t keep you,” Daniel said. “I just thought you would like to hear some good news for a change.”