Memories of Another Day

by Harold Robbins

  Excitement came into Moses’ voice. “Boyle came through?”

  “Better than that. John L. wants us to do some work for them.”

  Moses was incredulous. “You’re kidding. Don’t fool with me, Daniel. My heart can’t take it.”

  Daniel laughed. “It’s legitimate. He wants us to undertake impartial studies of all areas. We’re beginning with a survey of the Middlesboro and Kentucky districts. You’ll have to put together a field team and get down there right away.”

  “I’ll need more men,” Moses said.

  “Then get them. And take Junior down there with you as your number two. I want him to get his feet wet.”

  “But what about Harvard?”

  “He’ll have to pass that. It’s more important that he get some real experience. He can pick up on college later. Once you feel he has the idea, then leave him there and you come back to the office.”

  “Okay, Big Dan.” His voice lowered. “You got a call from Miami. He wants you to call him right back.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Moses’ voice went back up. “Congratulations. It’s like pulling a rabbit out of a hat. I don’t know how you did it.”

  Daniel was pleased. “It’s only the beginning. See you first thing in the morning.”

  He put down the telephone and looked across the desk. “Just one more call and we can go.”

  “I’m in no hurry.”

  He gave the long-distance operator the number. He put a hand over the mouthpiece while the call was going through. “Is that a new dress, Margaret?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s very pretty,” he said. “But then, so are you.”

  She blushed. “Thank you.”

  A voice came on the wire. Just the number. “Seven six three three.”

  “Daniel Huggins calling.”

  “One moment, sir.” There was a click on the line. Lansky came on. He came right to the point. “I need a favor.”

  “Just ask it,” Daniel said.

  “There’s an election coming up in the New Jersey Teamsters. I want you to see that the right man wins it.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Daniel said. “What’s his name?”

  “Tony Pro.”

  Daniel was silent for a moment. Tony Pro; Anthony Provenzano. One of the Family. “You don’t pick easy ones,” he said. “You know Dave Beck is against him.”

  “That’s your problem,” Lansky said flatly. “Just tell Hoffa that if Tony Pro becomes president of that local, he’ll never have to worry about the Teamsters on the Eastern Seaboard.”

  “I’ll get on it right away,” Daniel said.

  “Keep me posted.” Lansky went off the line.

  Slowly Daniel put down the telephone. He began to dial Moses’ number again, then changed his mind. That would keep until the morning. It was either feast or famine. From nothing to do to too much. Suddenly he was tired.

  “Anything wrong, Daniel?” she asked.

  He looked at her. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.”

  “You don’t have to take me out to dinner. If you’d rather just go home and rest, I won’t mind.”

  “I have an idea,” he said. “Why don’t we go to my house? I’ll have Mamie fix us a nice dinner, and afterward we can sit around and watch television.”

  She felt the heat rise in her face again, but her eyes were ready. “If that’s what you want.”

  He smiled suddenly, the smile seeming to drop the years from him. He picked up the telephone and dialed home. “Mamie, big steaks and all the trimmings. I’m bringing a pretty girl home to dinner.”

  ***

  It was a small house, not at all what she had expected. Cape Cod style, in a development where each house on the street looked almost like its neighbor. There were no driveways, and he parked the car in the street. They crossed a small patch of lawn to the front door.

  Before they reached it, the door was opened by a heavyset black woman, a smile showing her large white teeth. “Evenin’, Mistuh Dan.”

  “Mamie, this is Miss Rourke,” Daniel said as he led the way into the house.

  “Miz Rourke,” Mamie said.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mamie.” Margaret smiled. “I hope we didn’t make any problems.”

  “Oh, no, Miz Rourke. You work foh Mistuh Dan, you git used to things like that. No tellin’ who he comin’ home with. You jes’ make yohse’fs comf’table an’ I’ll go on gittin’ dinner ready.” She looked at Daniel. “You got time foh a shower an’ to git changed if’n you want.”

  “Okay, boss lady,” Daniel said. He turned to Margaret. “Mamie thinks she’s my mother. She runs my life.”

  Mamie pretended anger. “Somebody’s got to take charge. Now you git goin’. I’ll see that this purty li’l thing is made comf’table.”

  Margaret nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll be all right.”

  He went up the stairs, and Mamie led her into the living room. “Now you jes’ set down heah an’ I’ll bring you any drink you like.”

  “I don’t need anything. Can I help with anything?”

  Mamie smiled. “Ev’ything’s done. You jes’ relax.” She started from the room, then stopped and turned back. “You know Mistuh Dan a long time?”

  Margaret shook her head. “Not long. Maybe two months.”

  Mamie grinned. “You must sho have somethin’. This is the fust time he ever brought any of his girls home.”

  Margaret stared after her as she left the room. From upstairs she heard the sound of a door slamming. Slowly she looked around the room. The furniture was old-fashioned, heavy-framed and dark wood. The chairs and couch crowding the small floor space. There was a desk with a telephone in one corner, and on the wall opposite the couch there was a television set, over which were bookcases, filled with books that looked as if they had never been read. There were several nondescript paintings on the walls. Nothing else.

  Suddenly a thought came to her. Quickly she looked around the room again. Strange. Nowhere in the room was there a picture or photograph of anyone. This was the first time she had ever been in a home that did not have at least one photograph around. Her own little house was filled with them.

  She heard his footsteps on the stairs and turned toward him. He had changed into a sport shirt, open at the throat, revealing the heavy matting of hair across his chest, and a pair of dark slacks. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he grinned as he saw her staring at him. “Anything wrong?”

  He looked younger somehow. She shook her head. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you without a suit and tie.”

  “I also take them off to go to bed,” he said.

  She blushed.

  “I’ll see if dinner’s ready,” he said. “Want to eat in here or in the kitchen?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  “The kitchen,” he said. “That’s where we usually eat. It’s easier.”

  ***

  After dinner, they came back to the living room. He turned on the television set and placed a bottle of whiskey on the table in front of them. He poured a drink for himself.

  They watched as the set warmed up, bringing a quiz show into the room. She watched it with interest. She had no television set at home. He seemed bored with it but watched it silently, working steadily at the bottle of whiskey. Later they watched a movie for a while, then the news at eleven o’clock. During the evening they had scarcely exchanged more than ten words and had sat on the couch respectably distanced from each other.

  Finally he got to his feet. “It’s getting late,” he said. “Time I got you to the bus station.”

  She looked up at him without moving.

  “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “I heard you,” she said.

  “We’d better get going, then.”

  She rose silently and moved toward him. “Daniel.”

  “What is it?”

  “I didn’t have to come out here just for dinner.”

&nbs
p; He looked at her. “I’m old enough to be your father.”

  “But you’re not my father.”

  “You’ve heard all those stories about me. Even your father warned you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then you’d better let me take you to the bus station before we do something we’ll both regret.”

  Her eyes looked directly at him. “Don’t you want me?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I want you,” she said. “From the moment I first walked into your office, I wanted you.”

  “I don’t pick on children,” he said harshly.

  “I’ll tell you the same thing I told my father. I’m not a child anymore.”

  Again he was silent.

  “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said. “But this is the first time I’ve ever really wanted anybody. So much that the fire between my legs turns them into jelly and I’m afraid to walk.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then turned and walked across the room away from her. “Get yourself together,” he said gruffly. “I’m driving you home. I want to talk to your father.”

  “No,” she said firmly. “Anything you have to say to my father, you can say to me.”

  “How old are you?”

  She hesitated a moment. “Almost seventeen.”

  “Then I will have to talk to your father,” he said. “You see, I want to marry you.”

  Chapter 6

  The rain had turned into falling sleet that slicked the black surface of the road leading into town. Daniel looked across the seat at Moses, who was driving. “Where’s Junior?”

  “He’s at the Green boardinghouse waiting for us,” Moses answered, his eyes squinting through the windshield as the wipers clicked back and forth.

  “The others?”

  “They’re with him.”

  Daniel glanced at him again. Moses was silent. It wasn’t normal for him. Usually he never stopped talking. Daniel took a cigar from his inside pocket and lit it. “When do you think you’ll have the report ready?”

  “We’ve got it all together. We’re just waiting for you to go over it, maybe take a look around for yourself before we put it on paper.”

  Daniel nodded. This was not the usual pattern. Moses had never waited for him before. “How did Junior do?” he asked.

  “Good.” Moses looked at him. “He’s got something of you in him. Cuts right through the bullshit.”

  “I’m anxious to see him,” Daniel said. “I’ve got news for him.”

  “If it’s about Margaret being pregnant,” Moses said, “I think he’s already heard.”

  “But I only found out last week.” Surprise echoed in Daniel’s voice.

  “She’s two months gone,” Moses said. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” Daniel said drily. “Looks like the whole world knows. What have they got? Microphones in my bedroom?”

  Moses grinned. “You know better than that. Women just can’t keep a secret.”

  “Shit.” Suddenly Daniel understood. Mamie. Junior called her once a week for his messages. He laughed. “I bet you all were as much surprised as I was.”

  “We weren’t surprised,” Moses said. “Matter of fact, we couldn’t figure out what took you so long.” They passed the sign at the side of the road.

  WELCOME TO JELLICO

  POP. 1200

  “Five minutes,” Moses said, turning the car into the main road. They began to drive past houses clustered on either side of the street. The lights of the town center loomed in front of them. Despite the sleet, the streets were filled with people walking, looking in shop windows.

  “Busy town,” Daniel said. “Looks like more than twelve hundred people.”

  “Most of them aren’t from here,” Moses said. “You won’t find many locals on the street right now.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Miners.”

  “They don’t look like miners to me,” Daniel said. “They’re too clean. And miners are generally too tired to be walking around like this.”

  Moses was silent.

  “Where do they work?”

  “Not here,” Moses said. “They’re from out of town. But they’re miners, all right. They all hold union cards.” He made a left turn on the far side of the town center and pulled the car to a stop in front of a large house. “We’re here.”

  Daniel waited while Moses locked the car, then followed him up to the house. Junior was waiting just inside the door. “Father,” he said, a smile on his face.

  Daniel took his hand. Junior had filled out. Somehow he didn’t look as boyish as he had looked three months ago. “How are you, son?”

  Junior nodded. “Fine. You?”

  “Real good.”

  “Come with me,” Junior said. “Everybody’s waiting in the dining room.”

  There were five men waiting around the table. Two of them Daniel knew. They worked for CALL. Jack Haney, the young new labor lawyer who had joined them last year, and Moses’ assistant, a bright statistical analyst just recruited from the Wharton School of Finance. Daniel shook their hands, and Junior performed the introduction of the others.

  Max Neal and Barry Leif, sent up from the UMW headquarters in Middleboro, and Deputy Sheriff Mike Carson, a veteran UMW activist. To all intents and purposes, they were spearheading the UMW drive in Jellico.

  Daniel sat down at the head of the table and looked around. He came right to the point. “You all know why I’m here. I’ve been asked by John L. Lewis to give him a report on certain aspects of our organizational efforts in this area, so let’s get right down to it. The first order of business is who’s got the whiskey?”

  They all laughed. Deputy Sheriff Carson answered while bringing up a jug from underneath the table. “Never thought you’d git aroun’ to askin’, Big Dan.” Glasses appeared almost magically. He filled a glass and passed it to Daniel. “This is down-home product. The best.”

  Daniel tasted it. It was liquid fire going down. He smiled. “You’re right, Sheriff. Haven’t tasted squeezin’s like this since I used to he’p out my paw with our still.”

  “Thanks, Big Dan. Comin’ from you, I regard that as a real compliment.” Carson filled the other glasses and passed them around. He raised his glass. “Welcome home, Big Dan.”

  Daniel nodded and took another drink. “Now fill me in.”

  Jack Haney looked around the table. “Any objections if I just do a quick summary?” There were no objections. He glanced down at a sheaf of papers. “The principal problem here is the Osborne mines. They’re the biggest in the area and operating through a series of tipples, and blind trucking companies are avoiding union contracts and selling coal to the TVA at less than the prices union mines can afford because of two factors.

  “One, he pays less than union-scale wages. Two, he doesn’t have the forty-cents-a-ton contribution to the union welfare fund. He claims that if he paid either one or both, he would not be able to bid in TVA contracts and he would go broke. Because of his leadership, there are about thirty to forty other smaller mines following the same patterns. And that’s the nub.”

  “You have his figures?” Daniel asked.

  Moses answered. “Yes.” His assistant gave him a set of papers. “Right here.”

  “You’ve done an extrapolation?”

  Moses nodded.

  “And?”

  “Basically, he’s right. The way he’s operating, he’d go broke if he paid out.”

  “You said the way he’s operating?”

  “He’s old-fashioned,” Moses said. “His productivity is about eight tons per man, as against completely equipped union mines’ getting thirty tons per man. If he could make the equipment change, he could afford the salaries and welfare-fund payments. But he claims he hasn’t the capital to do it.”

  “Has he?”

  “No,�
� Moses said. “The way he operates, he’s marginal.”

  “And the others?”

  “They’re as bad off as he is or worse.” He put down the papers. “They’re mostly family-type operations.”

  Barry Leif spoke up. “The end result is that we’re all gittin’ screwed. Unionized mines can’t meet their prices, so the result is that they’re layin’ off workers while the others are puttin’ them on. We got four big mines, employin’ over a thousand members, about ready to shut down right now.”

  “Driving through town,” Daniel said, “I saw a lot of men on the streets. They all miners?”

  Leif nodded.

  “Working around here?”

  “No,” Max Neal said. “They’re volunteers we brought up from Middleboro to help us straighten out this here mess.”

  “How do you expect to do that?” Daniel asked.

  “We’ll turn the heat on the scab bastards. They’ll either join up or we’ll bust ’em up.”

  Daniel looked around the table. After a moment, he nodded. “I’ve got the picture,” he said. “Suppose tomorrow you take me around so I can get a firsthand look at the problem.”

  “What time?”

  “Right after breakfast. Eight o’clock okay?”

  After the UMW organizers and the deputy sheriff had gone, Daniel looked around the table. “Okay. Now give it to me straight.”

  Moses was the first to speak. “We’re sitting on a volcano that’s about ready to erupt. Yesterday they began stopping the trucks coming into town to pick up coal. If they didn’t turn away, the sheriff gave them a warrant for operating without proper equipment. Then on the way out of town, the drivers were hauled out of the trucks, had the shit kicked out of them and the coal was dumped. Now we hear that Osborne has hired armed guards to ride the trucks to the state line. Carson says he’s ready for them, and he’s deputizing over a hundred of the UMW volunteers and issuing gun permits. Plans are being drawn to dynamite some of the smaller mines and to have flying squads go to others and force the men to sign up. Some of these mines are owner-worked-and-operated; they’re mountain people and they’re not going to take it lying down. They’re armed and ready. All the makings are here for a bloodbath.”