“I don’t think I’m cold.”
“Let’s get on to this other thing. They’re organizing here?”
“...Why?”
“There you go again, with that fishy look. You ought to do something about your eyes, Carrie. They give you away...Why? I’m curious, that’s all. I’m no company spy, or anything like that. Just an interested bystander. But interested. I’ve got my reasons. I’m not just talking.”
“What reasons?”
His lace got very hard and bitter, and what he said next was almost between his set teeth. “Malice. Pure, unadulterated malice. They’ve got it coming to them, plenty.”
“Who is they?”
“All of them. The system.”
“I don’t see any system.”
“All right, I do. The foxholes improve your eyesight, maybe. Anyway, I’ve got interested in this social reform thing, and I’m going into it. I want to see how it works right from the beginning, and here in this restaurant is a good place to start. I want to see how they go about it, this organizing, I mean. Does that clear it up?”
“You sound awfully sore about something.”
“I am sore.”
“Well—sure we’re organizing.”
“A.F. of L. or this other one?”
“...It’s not the other one.”
“How far has it gone?”
“It’s all lined up.”
“When does it pop?”
“That all depends. The meeting’s tonight.”
“Where?”
“Reliance Hall.”
“Third Avenue, up near Eightieth?”
“Yes, it’s over in Yorkville somewhere.”
“Can I get in?”
“If you were a newspaper reporter—?”
“Ah, that’s an idea.”
“They’re letting reporters in later, after the main part is over. I could get you in. Are you a reporter?”
“No, but I could muss up my collar. Would you?”
He made that sound very personal, so I quickly said, “Why not?” as though I didn’t notice it.
“...why did you make that crack?”
“If it bothers you all that much, I’ll take it back.”
“You can’t. The truth is, I’m not anything, much.”
“Well, my goodness, you’re young yet.”
“I’m twenty-seven. My farthest worth in the way of accomplishment was to get made a second louie in infantry...Napoleon conquered Italy at twenty-six.”
“Maybe that wasn’t so hot. Maybe Italy didn’t think so.”
“That’s very sweet of you.”
The girls lost interest when I said he was a reporter, as that seemed the simplest way out, but I could feel him following me about with his eyes wherever I went. More customers came in, so we didn’t get any more chance to talk. When he left, a half dollar was on the table.
Two
I TELL ALL THIS to refute insinuations that were made, that I knew all about Grant, and took advantage of him from the start. The truth is I knew almost nothing about him, and what was said at our first meeting, it seems to me, proves that he acted very mysteriously with me, from the very beginning, and in spite of many peculiar hints, told me almost nothing about himself, and in fact concealed the main things from me. He did that, I know now, from modesty, and from being sick and tired of having people get excited over who he was, and from not being able to see that it made much difference anyway, since regardless of who he was he was not what he wanted to be, or even headed in that direction. However, I should like to make it clear that regardless of his motives, he did practice concealment. Now then, why didn’t I compel him to be more candid? Why was I content to be kept in the dark? That part I shall explain too, when I get to it, and merely say at this point that there was a reason, equally strong to me as his reasons were to him, and yet nothing I need be ashamed of. I want it understood that until the terrible storm broke, Grant and I were practically strangers to each other, intimate and yet barely acquainted. It set me thinking about social customs in a way I never did before, of the importance of introductions and mutual friends and the various guarantees that people receive concerning each other.
We had the big meeting that night, and Lula and I went, and I must confess I wondered if Grant would come, which surprised me, for one does not as a rule think much about customers after working hours. Once in the hall, however, I was in the midst of events which transpired so rapidly and unexpectedly that he was momentarily driven from my mind.
In general, I criticize all labor activities for being most inefficient and slipshod, and the meeting in Reliance Hall that night was no exception. There were 473 girls present, as my records later showed, all anxious to organize and get it over with. But just as most of them had found seats, word came that the girls of the Borough Hall restaurant in Brooklyn, who had previously been lukewarm, had decided to join, and were on their way over in a big bus, and that the meeting would wait for them. Why that had to be was never explained. So we marked time, and there were speeches, the gentlemen from the main council went into a huddle at one end of the platform, and nobody seemed really to be in charge, although a union lady from out of town was in the chair. All this gave time for factions to develop. Particularly there was a girl from the Union Square restaurant, by the name of Clara Gruber, who had a great deal to say about the full social value of our labor, which meant nothing to me, and in a few minutes, a lot of them were yelling for her to be president. This annoyed the girls from the Lower Broadway place, who were going to put me up for president.
So very soon the meeting was split into two groups, one yelling for me, the other for Clara Gruber, and in a very disorderly manner, with names being called. So as soon as I could get the attention of the lady in the chair, I got up and declined the nomination, if indeed there had been any nomination, for there didn’t seem to be any rules or motions or anything you could go by. This made things still worse, and the faction in favor of me threatened to secede. So then I hurriedly whispered to Lula and had her get up and say that if Clara Gruber was going to be president, then I had to be secretary-treasurer. My object in this was that I thought if our side had the money, it didn’t make much difference who was president. So that satisfied Clara Gruber, and she was elected, and so was I, and we both went up on the platform, and the union lady stepped down, and Clara Gruber began making another speech about the full social value of our labor.
She was interrupted by the arrival of the girls from Brooklyn. And then before she could get going, a little man in glasses came in, rushed up the aisle, and joined the huddle of the gentlemen from the main council of the culinary workers’ union. And then he turned around, and without paying any attention to Clara Gruber, he clapped his hands for order, and announced very excitedly that Evan Holden, the big C.I.O. organizer, was going to speak to them, because on a question of that kind jurisdictional lines should be wiped out, and labor should present a united front. So then in came Mr. Holden, and behind him came about ten newspaper reporters, in the midst of whom was Grant. The reporters took seats down front, but I wasn’t paying any attention to Grant at the moment. I was looking at Evan Holden. He was the special representative from International headquarters, and I must say I have rarely seen a more striking-looking man. He was over six feet tall, almost as tall as Grant, about thirty-five years old, with light hair and fair skin. His eyes were dark grey and very commanding. He had on a light double-breasted suit, which somehow brought out his heavy shoulders and the strong way he was built. But he walked rapidly like a cat.
He came marching up the aisle to the platform steps, and took these at one hop. Then he turned and faced the crowd and the girls began to cheer, so there was nothing for Clara Gruber to do but sit down. Then he began to talk. He didn’t talk loud, and he didn’t say anything about the full social value of our labor. He started off with jokes, and he had a sort of brogue which I took to be Irish, so in a minute he had them all laughing and orderly, and
ready to listen. Then in the simplest way he told us what we were doing, about how Capital and Labor are really in a partnership, but it had to be an equal partnership, so it seemed that all we were really doing was demanding our rights. So pretty soon he had them very excited and then he said he wanted them to pass a resolution which was something about how we would all stick. And in order to get the resolution passed, he turned the meeting back to Clara Gruber, but from the quick way he peeped at his watch I knew he had done his good deed and wanted to be on his way.
But instead of putting the resolution, Clara Gruber went on making her speech right where she was interrupted, and I saw Mr. Holden begin to look annoyed because my faction began to make unfriendly remarks, and take another peep at his watch. But how well they would stick was something that had been worrying me, so I determined to get in it. I said, “One moment, Madame President,” and before she could stop me I began making a speech of my own. I had never made a speech, but I thought if the way to get them interested is to tell them a joke, then I will tell them a joke. So I said:
“Once upon a time there were some mice that were going to bell a cat, but when the time came to do it they did not have any bell, but if they had had a little money maybe they could have gone out and bought one.”
Instead of making them laugh this provoked a perfect storm, and there were screams from all over the house that it was distinctly understood no money was to be collected. I took the gavel, where it lay on the table, pounded with it and went on: “It has been proposed that you pass a resolution telling how you are going to stick, and I don’t know what that’s going to prove, but to me it will not prove anything except that you passed a resolution. But if you put up some money, then I’ll believe you mean to stick, and so will Karb’s and so will everybody.”
Clara Gruber tried to get in it again, but they yelled her down. Even her own side was getting pretty sick of her by then. And then there came cries of, “Let Carrie talk. Carrie knows what she’s doing. Go on, Carrie, you tell us and damn right we’ll stick.”
So I went on: “Before I leave here tonight I’m going to collect one dollar off every one of you. The money will be deposited tonight in the Fiftieth and Seventh Avenue Branch of the Central Trust Company, receipt of deposit will be mailed to your president, Clara Gruber, but I’m going to collect it and anybody who refuses to pay is not going to be enrolled and had better not come around to me bragging about how they are going to stick.”
There was a cheer for that, but I talked right through it. “Get out your pencils.”
I waited till they got out their pencils. “Now take the leaflets that were distributed and write on the back as I direct. ‘August 13th, received of—put your name in here—one dollar on account of union enrollment dues.’ Write that down, present it to me with the cash and I will sign it and it will be your receipt. Then form in line around the hall, pass by my desk, pay your dues, get your receipt, and be enrolled. While you are writing and forming in line I will ask Lula Schultz to step down to the drug store on the corner and buy me a small account book in order that the record can be kept straight.”
Lula went out, and while they were writing and forming in line I noticed Evan Holden looking at me in a very sharp way. Then he came over, sat on the edge of the table in front of me, and leaned down close. “You’re a pretty smart girl.”
“Money is power. If they mean it, they can pay.”
“We generally do it a little differently. The money comes from the outside, from the older locals. But your principle is correct.”
“One dollar isn’t much, but it proves they mean it.”
Lula came back with the account book, and I got up and said they could begin passing by, and that then I thought it would be a good idea if they all went home, as there had already been enough talk. I didn’t mean it for a joke, but they all laughed and clapped. He got up, still looking at me. “A smart girl and a pretty girl. Carrie, they call you. What’s the rest of it?”
I told him and he said: “H’m.”
I was kept pretty busy for the next twenty minutes, but by the time the last of the line was by most of the girls had gone home, except for Lula and four or five others from our restaurant, who were waiting for me. But Clara Gruber was still there, and Mr. Holden was still there too, but he wasn’t looking at his watch any more, he was looking at me. And then at last Grant came edging up to me. “Hello.”
“Hello.”
“I got in.”
“I see you did. Without any help from me.”
“You certainly stirred things up.”
“Just saying what I thought.”
We talked a few minutes that way, not saying anything, and yet it was nice and friendly. Then he drew a long breath. “Do you suppose we could go somewhere for a cup of coffee or something, or maybe a little snack—there are quite a few things I’d like to ask you about it.”
I was just opening my mouth to say I didn’t see why not, but Mr. Holden must have been nearby, because he tapped me on the shoulder and then spoke to Grant. “Sorry, old man, but this little girl is going to be pretty busy tonight. We’ve only just started. Organizing a new union, you know—keeps us hopping.”
“I see.”
Grant looked disappointed, but I didn’t believe one word of what Mr. Holden had said. What more did we have to do? I knew I was between two men who were interested in me, and I wanted Grant to put up some kind of a fight. But I would have died rather than let him know that, so I simply said: “I guess there’s nothing I can do.”
“I guess not.”
Next, we were all edging toward the door, and Lula had me by the arm, all excited at what we had done, and Mr. Holden was with Clara Gruber, and I saw him hand her some money. I didn’t know what for at the time, but later I found out that he said he thought it would be a good idea if she and the leaders went out and had a little supper together, but that it would look better if she did it rather than he, because she was president. So this appealed to her sense of importance, which was really quite strong, and she fell right into what was really a deliberate trap. Because as soon as we were out on the sidewalk he began waving for a taxi, and as soon as one came up he said: “Come on, girls, we’re all going out for something to eat just to start the thing off right.” Then he put Clara Gruber in the taxi, and Lula, and the other girls one by one until of course the taxi was all filled up. So then he told the driver to go on, to take them to Lindy’s, that we would be right over in another cab. So then they drove off, and he and I got in another cab.
I knew perfectly well he and I weren’t going to Lindy’s, and under other circumstances I might have made objection, but there was Grant still standing on the curb and looking like a poor fish, and I was furious at him. So when Mr. Holden told the driver to go to the Hotel Wakefield I pretended not to notice, and when he waved at Grant and said, “Good night, old man,” I waved and smiled too, just as though it was perfectly natural.
When the taxi moved off he asked me in the most casual way if I minded stopping by his hotel first, as he was expecting telegrams, and had to keep in touch. I said not a bit, and we rolled down Third Avenue talking about what a fine set of girls they were who had assembled in the hall. The hotel was on Sixth Avenue not far from where I lived, and when we went in there he went at once to the desk. They handed him some mail and telegrams, and he tore one open. Then he came over to me, looking very depressed. “It was what I was afraid of. No Lindy’s for us tonight, Carrie. I’ve got to stand by for a Washington call.”
“It’s all right.”
“But we’ll have our supper. Come on.”
“If you’re busy—”
“Don’t be silly. We’re having supper.”
We went up in the elevator and entered his suite. He at once went in the bedroom and I could hear him phoning Lindy’s with a message to Miss Clara Gruber that he had been unavoidably detained and would not be able to come. Then he came back and asked me what I would like to eat, and I sa
id I didn’t care, and he went back and ordered some sandwiches, coffee and milk. Then he called to know if I wanted something to drink, and I said thanks I didn’t drink. He said he didn’t either, and hung up. Then he came back. I was highly amused, and yet I felt some admiration for him. He had intended it that way from the beginning, and yet not one word had been said which indicated he had deliberately contrived to get me up here, and for some reason this made it much more exciting. I began to see that one reason men had previously left me somewhat indifferent was that they were extremely clumsy.
However, he continued to act very casual, and looked at his watch, and gave a little exclamation. “We can still get them.”
“Get whom?”
“The Eisteddfod Strollers. They’re broadcasting.”
“At this hour?”
“It’s midnight here, but it’s nine o’clock in California. They’re on tonight at KMPC, Hollywood.”
He went to the radio and turned it on, and vocal music began to come in. “Yes, they’re just beginning.”
“Who are the—what strollers did you say?”
“Winners of our Welsh bardic contest called the Eisteddfod. They’re terribly good.”
“Are you Welsh?”
“A Welshman from Cardiff. A lot of us are Welsh in this movement.”
“I thought you were Irish.”
“The brogues are similar, but an Irishman isn’t much good in a big labor union. He’s too romantic.”
“Aren’t you romantic?”
I didn’t know I was going to say that, and he laughed. “In some parts of my nature I might be, but not about labor. An Irishman messes things up, fighting for lost causes, exhibiting to the world his fine golden heart, but a Welshman fights when he can win, or thinks he can win. He knows when to fight, and he can fight hard, but he also knows when to arbitrate. It was characteristic of Lloyd George, another Welshman and a fine one. They called him an opportunist, but they won that war just the same. It’s characteristic of John L. Lewis. A Welshman is a formidable adversary.”
Root of His Evil Page 2