“My God, that is huge. Where will they be built?”
“West Forty-Fourth, Forty-Fifth, and Forty-Sixth Streets.”
“That’s only four blocks from where I live.”
“And it’s too bad you don’t own the house you’re living in. All the homes in that area will greatly appreciate in value once this project is completed.”
Michael agreed. But owning the house was out of the question. He simply didn’t have the money. Realizing the enormity and complexity of such a project, he had a question. “Cully, how can we do a job like this? We’ll need to hire hundreds of men.”
Cully shook his head. “I won’t be the only contractor. They’ll be dozens and dozens of carpenters, land clearers, brick and stone men contractors. There’s a lot of money to be made here, Ranahan. A lot of money.”
Michael was glad to hear that. Construction in the city tended to be boom or bust, and winter months were traditionally slow. He lived with the constant fear that he wouldn’t have work and he wouldn’t be able to pay his rent. The bitter remembrance of him and his da being turned out of their cottage and watching it tumbled was seared in his memory. The mere thought of his family being thrown out into the street terrified him.
Shaking that thought from his mind, he said, “When do we start?”
“Right now, there are contractors clearing away the rocky outcroppings. Then the land has to be graded before construction can begin.” He stood up. “Come on, I want to go to the site and see how things are proceeding.”
“Today? With these road conditions?”
Cully rubbed his hands in anticipation. “I don’t care. I’ve got to see what’s going on.”
Once Michael made sure that all the wagons were properly loaded and sent on to their respective work sites, he and Cully took the small wagon and headed up Sixth Avenue. The snow had stopped, but it still took them over an hour of slipping and sliding along the avenue to get to Forty-Fourth Street. As they approached the intersection, they saw a group of men preparing explosives to take down a thirty-foot high outcropping that ran half the length of Forty-Fourth Street.
“Who’s in charge here?” Cully asked.
“I am.” The contractor was a thin, red-faced man in his early fifties. Cully stuck his hand out. “I’m Cully of Cullinane Construction.”
The man shook Cully’s hand. “Tom Garrity.”
Michael noticed Garrity’s eyes were unfocused and he smelled of alcohol. As the two contractors talked, Michael wandered over to where the workers stood around a man kneeling over several sticks of dynamite and inserting a fuse. He looked up at Michael with that same unfocused look. And he, too, smelled of alcohol. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“Michael Ranahan. I work for Cullinane Construction.”
“Well, there’s nothing for you to do until I blast these outcroppings to Kingdom come,” he snarled in a slurred voice.
With alarm, Michael noticed that the man’s hands were shaking. He glanced at the other men. They, too, looked concerned, but they said nothing. One man, however, trying to make light of it said, “Noonan, mind you don’t pack too many explosives this time and blow us all to Kingdom come.”
“Mind your own damn business,” Noonan muttered.
Michael didn’t know much about explosives, but he knew that dynamite and alcohol were not a good combination.
Noonan stumbled to his feet and with two assistants in tow they went halfway down the block to plant the explosives. When they came back Noonan took a cursory look around to see if anyone was nearby. Then he connected two wires to a wooden dynamite plunger on which was written in large letters: CAUTION: EXPLOSIVES. He depressed the plunger and for a moment nothing happened. Then, there was an ear-shattering explosion. A great cloud of black dirt and rocks and boulders of all sizes erupted high into the air. Everyone stood with open mouth as one huge boulder that must have weighed four hundred pounds flew in a slow-motion arc through the air. As it started its descent, a horrified Michael saw that it was going to hit a house on Forty-Third Street. Helpless to do anything, he watched the boulder crash through the roof.
“Jasus…” Noonan mumbled, “I guess it was too much of a charge…”
Slipping and sliding in the snow, Michael ran toward the house, praying no one was home. The other men stumbled after him. When they got to the house, Michael saw that all the windows on the first and second floors were blown out. Dirt and dust bellowed out the windows.
He tried the front door but it was locked. Stepping back, he kicked the door open. Inside, the air was heavy with smoke and floating plaster and debris. He heard a faint whimpering in the parlor. As he started into the room, he stopped. The boulder was hanging precariously from the parlor ceiling held in place by two cracked beams. Apparently, the boulder had gone through the roof, the attic, the second floor and came to rest here. He saw a maid sprawled on the floor directly underneath the boulder bleeding profusely from the head. Heedless of the hanging boulder, he rushed in and dragged her to the safety of the entrance hall. Using her apron, he wrapped the hysterical maid’s head to staunch the flow of blood.
“Is there anyone else in the house?” he asked.
“No … just me ...”
Michael was glad of that. He had no desire to go searching through a building that might be structurally unsound and could collapse at any moment.
Just then, Noonan and the others came in. Noonan glanced into the parlor and chuckled. “Jasus. Well, at least the stone didn’t get into the cellar.”
In a fit of rage over the man’s lack of remorse for what he’d done, Michael lunged at him and floored him with a punch. He would have given the man a severe beating, but the other workers pulled him off.
Just then, Cully and Garrity arrived. “Hey, what’s going on?” Garrity demanded.
“This man attacked me,” Noonan said, getting to his feet and wiping his bloody nose.
“You’re drunk,” Michael shouted. “You could have killed this poor woman. You’re just lucky no one else was in the house.”
“What’s the big fuss? It was an accident,” Garrity said.
“It’s not an accident when your explosives man is drunk. He’s got no business handling explosives. And you’ve no business letting him.”
Garrity pointed a finger at Michael. “Now don’t you be telling me my business.”
“He’s right.” Cully said. “Your man’s drunk and so are you. Come on, Ranahan. Let’s leave this lot to sort out the mess they’ve made.”
Michael helped the maid to her feet. “Do you know where there’s a doctor?”
“Yes. He’s a couple of blocks away.”
Michael and Cully helped the maid into their wagon and took her to the doctor’s house. They waited in the parlor while he attended to her.
Five minutes later, he came out wiping his hands on a bloody towel. “She’ll be all right. It’s a nasty cut, but no serious damage. What happened?”
When Michael told him, the doctor frowned.
“It’s not the first time something like this has happened. With all this new building construction going on in this neighborhood there are explosions going off from dawn to dusk. The noise, the dirt, and the danger have become intolerable. A few months ago, a huge boulder from an explosion crashed through the house of a colleague. Fortunately, no one was injured. But a month later, I treated a woman who was nearly killed when she was struck by a projectile from an explosion. We’ve complained to the authorities, but nothing has been done.”
And Michael knew why. The “authorities” had no doubt received bribes from these same contractors.
On the way back to the warehouse, Cully was unusually silent. Finally, he said, “It’s a bad business, Ranahan.”
“What is?”
“I’ve always been the sole contractor on a job. I do things my way and with my men. I don’t like the idea of having to work with the likes of a Tom Garrity.”
“It’s a big job, Cully, too big for us t
o handle alone. You said so yourself. What choice do you have?”
“I could turn the job down.”
Michael’s heart pounded in his chest. Only this morning he thought he was assured work for over a year. If Cully dropped out of the project, would there be enough work for them this winter?
“What will you do?” Michael asked quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Cully was silent for a moment, which seemed like an eternity to Michael. Finally, he said. “I can’t turn the job down. It’s worth too much money.”
Michael breathed a sigh of relief.
When he got home, Emily was feeding the baby in the kitchen and Henrietta was cooking dinner. At almost six months, Dermot should have been fully engaged with the world around him, but he seemed strangely detached and uninterested in his surroundings.
Emily, who had fully recovered from the difficult birth and looking as lovely as ever, was trying unsuccessfully to get him to respond.
Michael kissed her. “How’s he doing?
Emily frowned. “I don’t know. When I take him to the park he doesn’t really interact with the other children of his age.”
“I’m sure it’s just a stage.” He sat down at the table. “I’ve got good news.”
“Good news is always good to hear,” Henrietta said.
“Cully has landed a big contract with Astor to build three blocks of row houses.”
Henrietta’s eyebrows shot up. “The William Astor?”
“The same. Emily, do you know what this means? I’ll have steady work well into next year.”
“Oh, that is good news. When will you start?”
“As soon as the land is leveled.”
By March, the last of the outcroppings had been dynamited away and the land had been graded and prepared for building. During that time, there had been numerous overloaded explosive charges that caused considerable damage to surrounding buildings. But, fortunately, the only fatality was a careless and drunken Noonan who blew himself up in a premature explosion. Due to the increased workload, Cully had to hire more men and purchase three more wagons. Flynn, despite his fervent protests, was promoted to foreman again.
It was just after one o’clock when Michael got back to the warehouse.
Cully looked up. “What are you doing back so early?”
“There’s been another delay.”
“Who is it this time?”
“Nally and his plumbing crew. They’re not finished installing the pipes. We can’t put the flooring in until he’s done.”
“Goddamn it.” The old man slammed his fist on the desk. “That’s the fifth delay this month.”
Cully’s worst fears were coming to fruition. The Astor project was a massive undertaking involving dozens of contractors and hundreds of workers. Some contractors were competent, but many more were no better than Tom Garrity’s crew. Cully had been clashing more and more with Nally who, because of his slipshod work, was holding him up by not completing the work on time.
“That’s it. I’m fed up with that goddamn Nally. It’s time to have it out with him.”
“Is that wise? You know he’s the brother-in-law of a Ward boss.”
“I don’t care if he’s St. Patrick’s brother. We don’t get paid if we’re not doing the work. Come on, I want to talk to that sonofabitch.”
When they got to the job site, Cully jumped off the wagon before Michael could bring the horse to a halt. “Where’s Nally?” he snapped at one of his workers.
“Where’s he always?” the man said in disgust. “In the saloon around the corner.”
Cully was so furious Michael decided he’d better go with him. They found Nally sitting on a bar stool talking to the bartender.
“Nally, why aren’t you supervising your men instead of sitting here getting drunk?”
Nally turned and regarded Cully with bleary eyes. “And what’s it to you, Cullinane?”
“You’re holding me up. If you can’t do the job, get off the site.”
“Go to hell. I’ll finish when I’m damn well ready.”
Cullinane lunged at him. Although Nally was taller and younger, Cully was stronger. As they wrestled and crashed to the sawdust-covered floor, Michael jumped in to separate them. He pulled his boss off Nally. “Come on, Cully. This is no way to settle it.”
The older man struggled to get free of Michael’s grasp. “I’ll kill the sonofabitch ... Let me go …” Suddenly, Cully grabbed his chest and groaned. At first, Michael thought Nally had stabbed him. But there was no blood. Cully sank to the floor clutching his chest and groaning in agony.
“Quick, give me a hand getting him into the wagon.”
As soon as Cully was safely in the wagon, Michael drove to the house of the doctor who’d treated the maid. He and the doctor laid Cully on a bed. The doctor pushed Michael out of the way. “Wait outside while I examine him,” he said curtly.
Fifteen minutes later, he came out. “He’s had an attack of angina pectoris.”
“What’s that?”
“A syndrome characterized by constricting pain below the sternum, usually precipitated by exertion or excitement.”
“Is he going to be all right?”
“I believe so, but he’ll need plenty of bed rest.”
“How long before he’s back on his feet?”
“Could be months.”
“Months? That’s impossible. He has a business to run.”
The doctor glared at Michael. “A dead man can’t run a business.”
Michael was stunned. “You mean he could die?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
After carrying Cullinane out to the wagon and making him as comfortable as he could, Michael made his way down Sixth Avenue trying his best to avoid potholes and ruts that would rattle the wagon.
Cully’s house was only a couple of blocks from the warehouse, so Michael stopped there first to pick up Flynn and two other men.
The old man’s house on Pine Street was a modest two-story building. They carried him upstairs to his bedroom and put him into bed.
“Cully, do you have a doctor?” Michael asked.
The old man winced in pain. “Yeah ... Dr. Foley ... He lives at 74 Water Street.”
Fifteen minutes later, Flynn returned with the doctor, a rail-thin man in his early sixties with a no-nonsense demeanor.
“So, what seems to be the problem?”
“He’s had an attack of…” Michael couldn’t remember the name the doctor said.
“He wasn’t talking to you,” Cully snapped.
“Who said he had an attack?”
“A doctor uptown.”
“He’s a damn quack,” Cully muttered.
“So, what do you think the problem is?” the doctor asked.
“I’ve had this terrific pain in my chest and it went down my left arm. Probably indigestion. I’m all right now.”
Dr. Foley waved his arm. “Everybody out.”
Michael sent Flynn and the others away.
Ten minutes later, the doctor came out. “It would seem that he did have an attack of angina pectoris.”
“That’s it. That’s what the doctor said. An angina pectoris attack.”
“I’m not surprised. I’ve told him repeatedly he must slow down. I’ve told him to avoid all extreme emotions and excessive passions and anxiety.”
“But that’s the way Cully is.”
“Well, he’s got to change if he wants to go on living. I’ve told him to slow down, but to no avail. The stubborn old coot never listens.”
“The doctor uptown said he would need bed rest. He said it could take months.”
“I agree. He needs to maintain a course of emotional and physical equilibrium.”
“What’s to become of his business?”
“Ranahan,” Cully shouted from the bedroom. “Get in here.”
The doctor closed his bag. “I’ll be back tonight to look in on him. You’d better go see what he wants.”
<
br /> Cully was sitting up propped by two fluffy pillows. “That quack says I had some problem with my heart.”
“So did the other quack— I mean the other doctor. You’ve got to listen to him.”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to stay in bed for a couple of months doing nothing. I’ve got the Astor project to consider, and ...” He winced and grabbed his chest.
“Should I get the doctor back here?” Michael asked in alarm.
“No, I’m all right. Just a little pain.” He looked at Michael with squinting eyes. “If I must be laid up for a couple of days, do you think you could handle the business?”
“Me? Well, I don’t know …”
“Of course you can do it, Ranahan. I’ve been watching you. I’ve seen how you handle the men.” He grunted. “That troublemaker Larkin needed to be put in his place. And I liked your idea of loading the wagons in the proper order. I should have thought about it meself.”
Michael was surprised that Cully had even noticed what he’d done. “Well, if you think I can do it…”
“You start tomorrow. They’ll be extra pay in it for you. At the end of the workday, come back here and tell me what’s going on.”
As Michael started to leave, he said, “Cully, do you have anyone to take care of you while you’re in bed?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll be up and about a couple of days.”
“That’s not what the doctor said ...”
“That goddamn quack doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Just come back here tomorrow afternoon and tell me what’s going on.”
Chapter Nineteen
To Michael’s surprise he found that he was not only able to run the business efficiently, he enjoyed the challenge. Unburdened by Cullinane’s impatience and short temper, he was able to deal more amicably with venders and fellow contractors. He was also grateful to the men, especially Larkin, who didn’t challenge his authority. He suspected they knew it was in their own self-interest to see that Cullinane Construction remained a viable business.
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